The Emerald Eye
by staceums
Summary: A story about Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne, their personal views about right and wrong, and whether or not they can overcome their differences. Will Selina ever remove her prejudice against Bruce? Can Bruce open his heart to her? Warning: language!
1. Catwoman

**The Emerald Eye**

**Author's Note:** For a brief synopsis, please visit my main page. Reviews and constructive criticism about my **_writing_** is encouraged, however, what you personally don't like about my _**ideas**_, or how you think I should change them, is NOT encouraged. _It's a fanfic._ Everyone has free will to write about whatever they want. That being said, this story is not perfect and will most likely not be historically accurate. However, I hope you enjoy it all the same.

* * *

A slender, slinky figure sat on the roof of an old building. She leaned over the ledge and examined the large complex next door. It was relatively new, but the modernized museum was home to rare antiques and artifacts worth more than millions combined. The security was top-notch; bullet-proof windows lined the bottom and middle floors, and at night a reinforced cage blocked the items from view on the inside, preventing any late-night window shoppers to come prowling. The third and fourth floors of the building did not have any windows, for they housed mainly paintings on the wall and various sculptures. Advanced heat-seeking lasers and movement sensors were built into every room and were turned on precisely at closing time, 8:00 p.m. sharp on weekdays and 10:00 p.m. on Saturday nights. It was now Sunday night, and even though the museum closed early at 5:00 p.m., there was a semi-truck that had been pulled up into the alleyway. Three armed guards stood watch and two more helped the movers unload something large and heavy that had been packed securely in a wooden crate.

She wasn't interested in that merchandise. Something that large would be incredibly expensive, to be sure, but to move it out of the museum without being noticed was out of the question. She wasn't interested in money, anyway. Well, not entirely. She sat slightly hunched over, with one leg propped up onto the ledge. She put one elbow over her knee and watched as the movers did their work. She would not infiltrate the museum tonight. There was ample time to examine the place and its treasures before hurrying in and stealing mindlessly. She was above all that. She was above the common bank robber. She even considered herself to be a type of Robin-Hood figure, even though the general public didn't recognize her as such. However, she usually kept herself hidden in the shadows, and the media had focused on other figures like the Joker and the political events with Harvey Dent. Gotham City used to be an unimaginable hellhole, terrorized by gangsters and the mafia, until the most unusual thing happened. A man dressed in a bat suit started to help the police. At first, she thought it was inconceivable. Nobody could be that crazy, and the police couldn't possibly be accepting help from a lunatic dressed as a bat. Nevertheless, the arrests started to outnumber the crimes, and apparently this "Batman" was the savior of Gotham City. He had the tools and he had the stealth and fighting skill of a ninja, and people had claimed to see him do things no other living human could possibly do. It was all total rubbish, in her eyes. Somehow, for some reason, a very strong, powerful man decided to cloak himself and do things his own way rather than join the police squad. She smiled and shrugged as she thought about it. She couldn't blame him.

She first broke the law when she became fed up with the mafia controlling everything. Even though Gotham City was suffering, she decided not to let others suffer for man's corruption. She tried to do everything in her power to help, but when it got too overwhelming as a citizen, she decided to take matters into her own hands under the stealth of night and disguise, and try a different route. The rich bureaucrats of Gotham were total scum, and they did not deserve to have their precious commodities stared at and admired while they made money to hand over to corrupt judges and officials. Their expensive little toys would be hers to collect. A wealthy philanthropist would have items such as antiques, golden statues, ancient greek paintings, or anything else on display in a museum or private building. She thought it was utter nonsense – just a way to show off the goods. They didn't give a damn what those items meant in terms of historical importance, and they probably didn't even know what consisted of half their inventory. So she decided to start stealing them. Some of the items she would keep and sell to a private and trustworthy collector outside of Gotham, but that was rare. Most of the items would be converted into cold, hard, untraceable cash and then she would donate that to various charities, veterinary clinics, humane societies, and SPCA's throughout Gotham. Everything she traded was outside of the state, and usually the investigators weren't very concerned with a rich man's commodity – murders, drug deals, and bank robberies always had the utmost priority.

Her tactics were only known through the rich communities, therefore, hardly any of the general Gotham public knew about her. The richies called her the "Cat Burglar," and nobody knew if it was a man or a woman that was pulling the jobs. She would steal on occasion, but made sure it wasn't often enough to leave a pattern, and she never left a clue behind. She had started out wearing the usual cliché robbery garb – a ski mask, black gloves, black pants, boots, and a black sweatshirt – but found out early in the game it was too easy to trace. It was dangerous since she was a woman, and it would be easy for forensics to find hair or an eyelash, so she stopped. It was only until after she was dubbed the "Cat Burglar," and when Batman first started to make his appearance to catch other masked sickos around Gotham, she decided to "copycat" the idea. She fashioned her own costume and headpiece out of black leather and spandex into a type of jumpsuit. The jumpsuit was well-protected with black thigh shields that were sewn into the leather and blended in with the rest of the outfit, and a black leather bustier with an internal, plastic-like plate fitted around her torso and laced up behind the back. The bustier was a little heavy and very hard to the touch; it was made out of a flexible plastic material the cops used to protect themselves from bullets. She didn't know if the bustier would stop a bullet, but it would definitely protect her from any knife wounds or punches. She had never run into a fight, but she had decided to take the utmost precaution – dressing head to toe in leather automatically earned you unwanted attention in Gotham City, especially at night. Knee-length, three-inch heel, leather boots completed the outfit, but she made sure they were comfortable enough to run in and practical enough to use without falling over by adding lots of sole-pads and shin support. She had decided to take her name "Cat Burglar" to a literal level – she was Catwoman. Her headpiece clung tightly to her head and her hair was safely tucked in. Only her eyes and mouth were exposed. The headpiece was attached to the jumpsuit almost like a hood – all she had to do was slip the jumpsuit on, lace up the bustier, and then pull her mask over her head. Tucking in the hair was the hardest part. As a type of inside joke, she decided to sew tiny leather cones on top of the headpiece to fashion cat ears. To add a little theatrics, she put dark eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara on her eyes and eyelashes, used a pale concealer on her skin, and even used lipstick a shade a little too red she wouldn't use out in public. It wasn't very bright, and it wasn't a fire-engine red, but it was the color of blood and it was too dramatic to wear out in the civilian world. Not only was it a dramatic effect, but it also helped hide her real identity. She definitely wasn't as pale or used such vivid makeup in person.

A black cat purred and let out a soft mew as it rubbed against her other leg, begging for attention. She glanced down at it and then back at the large truck.

"Almost done, sweetie," she whispered softly. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward even more. The men were unloading a smaller box, passing it from one to the other. Eventually a guard took it inside the complex. That was the one she was waiting for.

From what she had researched, the Emerald Eye was delivered all the way from Europe by a wealthy philanthropist that no longer believed it was of use to him, so he passed it to the highest bidder. Catwoman had used the internet and some trustworthy sources to gain the information about where the Emerald Eye was to be handed down, and finally, two weeks ago, word got around that Bruce Wayne had the highest bid. It was shipped to his art and history museum in Gotham City. It was the newest museum that had been built after he restored his hospital and revamped his entire committee. Bruce Wayne was the most eligible bachelor in Gotham City ever since his return two years ago, and a lot of things had happened since then. Not only was he the most eligible, young and dashingly handsome bachelor, but he was also the highest donator towards charities and held numerous balls, parties, donation galas, scholarship award ceremonies, et cetera. Most of his donations went towards children's foundations, education, and needy families. Even though she admired his generosity, she didn't have the slightest interest in his work. She had never attended one of his charity balls before; however, this upcoming weekend would be the first. He was holding a grand-opening event for his new museum, and the who's-who of rich, clueless philanthropists and celebrities would all be there. She decided to see what sort of party favors he would have there, and she was secretly delighted to find that the Emerald Eye would be one of the main events.

Catwoman stood up and examined the museum one last time, then turned her back and slowly walked across the roof of the building. The black cat followed her. She came upon the edge on the other side and stared down at a fire escape, then glanced at the cat.

"Has all the surveillance made you restless, Isis?"

The cat peered up at her with yellow eyes. Her tail twitched back and forth.

Catwoman smiled, leaned over, and offered the back of her hand. The cat rubbed its head against it, and she used a knuckle to rub its ear. "Me, too. Don't worry. Another week and we'll have some fun again."


	2. Selina Kyle

Selina Kyle was wearing a long lab coat and grabbed a chart from a hook in a wall as she walked through some double doors. Under the lab coat was a navy blue skirt and jacket over a black blouse. She wore dark pantyhose and black pumps. She was regally dressed, for she had other matters to tend to. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, however, she volunteered at the Gotham City SPCA, which was terribly understaffed. It not only served as a humane shelter but also tried to help as many people as they could with their pets. Sometimes pets needed desperate veterinary attention, but their owners were either unable to afford it or had neglected them completely.

Her golden blonde hair flowed down to her shoulders and she always managed to look very classy after she styled it. Her long bangs swept past her left eye and she usually took a curling iron to her locks and pinned the bangs back, giving her almost a 1940's look. She kept the makeup to a minimum, but never failed to outline her eyes, which were a deep green. She never used blush and only used faint mineral powder to cover up a few blemishes or hide shine. She wasn't a pale woman, but she didn't tan very well, a common feature of most blondes. She was a very beautiful woman in most aspects – she was smart, tall, slender, and 100 percent available. Unfortunately, her schedule hardly allowed her to date.

Dogs were barking and cats were meowing in kennels down the hall, and only a few other doctors walked in and out of different offices that had large metal tables in them. One office had a small Pomeranian dog that was bounding around, yipping furiously, and its owner, an old woman, was trying to get it to settle down. Another office held another dog, this time a black mutt, that was being examined by a vet. A large, plastic, cone-shaped collar had been wrapped around its neck to prevent it from licking or biting any of its lower body wounds. Selina sighed and kept walking. She rubbed her forehead and pulled a pen out of her pocket.

_Dogs, always dogs. __Why __can't__ there __be __more cats around here?_

She continued to walk down the hallway and entered another room. A man and a woman were sitting down and a beautiful, white, long-haired cat had been placed upon the metal table. It looked nervous, but it was behaving so far.

"Mr. and Mrs. Clements?" Selina asked.

"Yes," the woman replied.

Selina examined the chart. "We're here to talk about…" she read the cat's name. Snowball. _How horribly __cliché for someone to name their cat that, _she thought. It told her a lot about the owners. "Snowball's condition? You say he hasn't been eating?"

"That's right," the woman answered. "It's been two days, now. He won't eat his food, and whenever he tries to drink something, it just comes back up."

"Notice anything unusual in his litter box?"

Mrs. Clements looked confused.

"The reason I'm asking is because sometimes cats will eat things other than their food, like small animals…mice, birds, maybe a needle, a key…"

Mrs. Clements shook her head. "Oh, no, we live in the city. We hardly ever let Snowball outside."

_Pitiful._ "I'm sure you've been attentive to hairballs?"

Mr. Clements spoke up. "I've been checking around. I haven't heard him make any noises, and I haven't seen anything on the floor."

Selina nodded. "Okay…" she set the clipboard down and softly pet the cat. It didn't shy away. "I'm going to just gingerly feel around for any abnormalities…"

She used her hands and softly massaged the cat's neck and scratched it's head, so it could get a feel for her hands and so he could catch her scent. So far, so good. She moved her hands down to his back and felt along his spine. She softly used her fingertips to feel the front of its chest, and used both hands to slowly massage its front legs.

"Okay, Snowball," she coaxed it, "I'm going to feel your tummy…"

She slowly pushed the cat on its side. It obliged. When she put her left hand on its back leg, however, it hissed.

"Hmm," Selina looked up at the owners. "Does he have arthritis?"

Mrs. Clements looked surprised. "How do you know?"

"He doesn't like me touching his back legs. Lots of times, it's a male dominance thing. Other times it could be arthritis. Does he seem stiff? Has he had trouble walking up the stairs?"

Mrs. Clements looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, he does have trouble jumping up onto the windowsill. That used to be his favorite spot, but now he doesn't go up there as much."

Selina smiled and looked down at the cat. "You're an old kitty."

Snowball meowed.

"He'll be fifteen years next week," Mr. Clements answered.

Selina nodded. "He's got mild arthritis in his back legs. You might want to crush up half of an aspirin and put it in his food, just to dull the pain a little."

Mrs. Clements looked relieved. "Is that why he isn't eating?"

Selina shook her head. "Unfortunately, no…I'm feeling around for…" she stopped herself. Her hands had run down his chest, and once she got close to his belly, she felt a distinct lump. It was small, but hard, and it could be easily missed through all the thick fur. She sighed audibly, but not on purpose.

"What? What's the matter?" Mrs. Clements relief melted away into worry.

"He has a small cyst near his abdomen. We might have to run some tests…"

"A cyst? What does that mean?"

Selina pressed her lips together. "It might signify the beginnings of cancer…"

Mrs. Clements gripped her husband's hand.

"Or," Selina continued, "it could be benign. Sometimes cysts don't cause any harm at all, but I'm pretty sure this is why Snowball isn't eating. It's putting pressure on his stomach and he doesn't have an appetite. Either way, benign or malignant, it needs to be removed."

"He's got to go into surgery?"

Selina nodded. "I'm afraid so. We'll have to keep Snowball here."

"What if the cyst is malignant?" Mr. Clements asked.

Selina shook her head and glanced down at Snowball. He looked up at her with pale, blue eyes. She didn't want to be the one to relay the news to them.

"If it's malignant, it means that it's cancer. Surgery would remove it, but it could come back. There's therapy for that sort of thing…but…Snowball is already a very old cat. We couldn't perform the treatment here at the SPCA; you'd have to take him to a professional veterinary clinic. Cancer therapy for your pet is very expensive, very lengthy, and sometimes it even puts unnecessary stress on the animal."

"We'd have to put him down," Mr. Clements nodded and finished the sentence for her.

Selina nodded solemnly. "Yes. You would."

"If it was malignant, couldn't we just have the surgery and no therapy?" Mrs. Clements asked.

"If the cancer comes back, it would just be too painful and energy-consuming on Snowball," Selina replied. "He would be dying slowly, and it wouldn't be easy on him. Putting him down would be better."

Mrs. Clements was on the verge of tears. Mr. Clements rubbed her back and sighed. He wasn't as concerned as his wife – after all, it was a cat – but it had been around for fifteen years. He didn't like the news any better.

"But we…we…it's too expensive," she stammered as her lip quivered.

"We can go as far as removing the cyst, Mrs. Clements," Selina tried to console her. "Please remember that there's a good chance of this tumor being completely benign."

"And…and if it isn't…would you give us a call? Would you let us know?" she asked.

"Of course," Selina replied.

The Clements' nodded.

"I'm going to go outside and talk to my peers to try to schedule something for Snowball, ok?" Selina said softly. "I'll try to fit him in within the next two weeks, depending on how busy the SPCA is."

She slipped out of the room and walked down the hall to the supervisor's office. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She didn't have the heart to tell Mr. and Mrs. Clements the odds of the cyst being benign as opposed to malignant. Normally, a benign cyst in an animal was simply a signal whether or not it was gaining a significant amount of weight in a short amount of time. Snowball wasn't a fat cat. Cysts were relatively rare in dogs and cats, but they usually existed in the fatty parts of the skin. Pinching a cyst to tell whether or not it was in the skin layer was a good way to tell. Selina had done that and discovered that the cyst wasn't in the skin; it was deeper within the abdomen. It was a good indication that it was growing on an internal organ; never a good sign. The most frustrating thing about the SPCA was that it was limited in its resources since it relied heavily on donations. Selina was one of the top donors towards the SPCA, but it was still not enough to provide full-time salary to veterinarians, purchase the up-to-date equipment, or have enough on-call staff to pick up strays and investigate animal cruelty.

Selina knocked twice on a thick, wooden door and cracked it open. A burly man with short brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses was on the phone, but he motioned her to come in. She left the door slightly cracked and took a seat across from his desk.

"I understand that, but…yes…yes…of course there is, but you can't keep sending every single animal in Gotham City to this clinic! We're understaffed enough as it is! If you want the taxpayers' dollars to be well-spent, stop using it on dog catchers and pest control and start channeling it to the Gotham City SPCA! You can tell the mayor that this is a clinic run by donations only, and it's not his own personal shitter! …..I know…I understand that. What I want _you_ to understand is that if you keep sending the animals over here, we won't have any more space for them, and we're going to need money to expand the kennels. If you can't provide us money for that, then we'll have to start putting the animals down, and then you'll have to provide the money to supply us with pentobarbitol." **(1)**

The man swiveled in his seat and sighed. He leaned back and took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, I got that, Frank. Listen, I've got to go, give me a call back later, okay? Right. Bye."

He hung up and glanced at Selina.

"Board of Trustees giving you trouble again, Buzz?" Selina asked. The supervisor's real name was Bill, but because of his short, buzzed haircut, she started to call him a nickname.

"No, it's the other way around this time," Buzz replied. "I'm giving them a hard time because somehow they've approved a measure that basically gives the SPCA all the animals in Gotham without increasing any monetary funding. I don't get it. I'm trying to get this mess sorted out right now."

He glanced at her and put his glasses back on. "But putting that aside…what's up?"

"I've got a cat back there that might need surgery."

Buzz bit his lip and nodded. "Of course it does. When can you do it?"

"Buzz…"

"You can fit it in this Friday, right?"

"Buzz!"

"What?"

"I don't do surgeries, remember?"

Buzz sighed. "Shit, that's right. I really wish you could, Selina."

Selina shook her head. "I don't have my D.V.M., Buzz. I'm not authorized to do that kind of work."

"I know, I know. But you're our best donor and the best cat expert in the area…trying to schedule a surgery with Marie or Todd is going to be tricky. Are you sure it needs surgery?"

"We'll probably have to put it down," Selina admitted.

Buzz stared at her. "Then why in God's name would we waste our time and money on a surgery that's hopeless?"

"It's not totally hopeless," Selina objected.

Buzz shook his head. "Selina, I know you get attached to our animals quickly, but you've got to be realistic here. We can't afford to do surgeries unless we know the animal has a chance."

Selina sighed. "I don't know if it's benign or malignant, Buzz."

"You've found a tumor?"

Selina nodded.

Buzz sighed. "Why can't these people go to a real vet?"

"Because they can't afford it, Buzz."

"I know, but we can't afford them any more than they can afford us."

Selina and Buzz sat in silence for a moment, and Buzz glanced back at Selina and finally shrugged.

"Find Marie," he said gruffly. "Check with her to see if she's free for a surgery within the next couple weeks."

Selina smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Buzz."

Buzz waved her off. "It's because you're priceless to us, Selina. If I didn't like you so much, this wouldn't happen."

* * *

**(1)** pentobarbitol - a compound used to humanely euthanize animals 


	3. Kyle Trading, LLC

Selina was taking a taxi to her next meeting. She had managed to find Marie, a plump little Asian woman who was a licensed veterinarian, and she convinced her to schedule a small cat surgery. Marie didn't mind doing a surgery, but she was reluctant to perform a surgery on a possible malignant tumor. Usually, in those circumstances, the SPCA would just put the cat down, but Selina at least had wanted to give Snowball a fighting chance…even if the owners seemed to be on the naive side.

Selina wasn't a veterinarian. She had her chance, however. She had applied and was admitted into the veterinary division of Gotham City Medical School after getting her bachelor's degree, but she never finished her graduate degree. It was an extensive five-year program and it was an intense residency, however, none of that seemed to faze Serena. She had loved veterinary school and she would have easily become a vet, but she was never interested in treating dogs, lizards, turtles, birds, horses, or any other animal they usually had to treat. She was only focused on the treatment of cats. Her passion for cats – housecats, mostly, but sometimes even larger cats such as tigers and pumas – gained her recognition among the public zoo officials and local SPCA chapters and humane societies, but her grades were steadily declining. She had refused to deliberately impregnate a mare as part of a veterinary lab. She hated dealing with birds or lizards or rodents, and she reluctantly worked with dogs, until one day a dog bit her on the arm. It was a Rottweiler, and it was relatively good-tempered, but as she was running a few tests during her residency it had suddenly growled and snapped at her, grabbing her left forearm and tearing most of the muscle tissue. Her arm hadn't been broken but it had been horribly scarred afterwards, and she had to wear a sling. The owners claimed that she had probably done something to provoke the dog, and she had tried to defend herself, but the subsequent refusal to put the dog down made her furious. The vet school had started to question her ability to work with animals professionally based on her grades and recent episode with the Rottweiler, and the whole debacle was enough to make Selina quit. She didn't want a D.V.M. after that.

Instead, she specialized in cats and started to volunteer at the SPCA and various humane societies, garnering the trust of the supervisors and other vets in the area that didn't share a passion for cats. Allergic employees and even members who didn't like working with cats usually gave their cases to Selina, and she gratefully took them. The supervisors of the societies, like Buzz, knew that she technically didn't have her degree, but was just as good as the other veterinarians. They were glad to have her help, especially since she wasn't even on their payroll.

Her father, however, loudly objected to her decision to quit vet school, and he stopped giving her money. She was on her own. Selina had provided for herself, however, even as she was volunteering. The zoo had agreed to hire her part-time, cleaning cages. It was a low-wage job, but she never complained. Instead, after the zoo would close up every night, she would enjoy watching the tigers, lions, and leopards. They seemed to hate coming out during the day to deal with screaming children and the hot sun. However, after dinner, they were much more active at night, and she loved to watch them play with each other. Her other part-time job was through a law firm, where she was a secretary. The job was boring and uneventful, but Selina had learned a lot about international trade, small business partners, deals, lawsuits, and other red-tape matters. It was when she was reading a few papers on legal proceedings of a lawsuit about a family heirloom she finally got an idea.

It was a small idea, and she didn't have very much money behind it, but she spread the word at the local humane societies and her veterinary friends. She had decided to start a business that would buy and re-sell items that could have potential value, such as old family heirlooms or antiques that have been stowed away for long periods of time. It was as if she had crossed the idea of "antiques road-show" and a pawn shop and made it a much more elite cause. Her new business handled the research and appraisal of unknown antiques that were submitted to them by rich families, and in return, they would earn 30 of the profits. The family would receive the rest. Initially, to get the business off the ground, most of the profits were used to pay rent to her building and utility bills, then a few salaries, then the business grew. It was popular to Gothamites all around, especially the rich, bored ones who had a bunch of junk to sell. Selena's plan had worked. She wanted to target the naïve yuppies of Gotham to make a few bucks, and she had earned more than she bargained for. The business was successful, and she used any extra money to pay off school loans and hire more people. Eventually, when they were earning more cash than they could put out, Selina used most of it to donate to charities. It gave her even more recognition and notoriety amongst the rich and pompous philanthropists, that she suddenly got invitations to charity balls and other parties. If it wasn't related to anything useful, Selina would always decline. She was younger than most of them, and even though she didn't consider herself a philanthropist, she technically became one anyway. Her father had become so proud of her that he used most of his money (that he originally cut her off from) to buy her a nice condo in the center of Gotham City. It was his parting gift before he passed away from complications with diabetes.

Selina sighed as she looked out the window. She wasn't a rich woman. She wouldn't let herself become that way. She was successful by accident. She had the chance to become incredibly rich, but instead she used most of that money to donate. Every single donation went towards helping animals in some way, especially endangered species. She helped primarily cats, but she also gave money to start wildlife refuges or non-profit zoos. After speaking with Buzz, she was inclined to put more money into their SPCA. She couldn't fathom the idea that after all the donations she had provided, it didn't seem to do much good. It was hard to fix things in Gotham. Cost of living was already expensive enough. She could more than afford her beautiful condominium, but she began to feel frustration towards Gotham City officials that tended to suck most of the donation money away before it could actually get to the destination. No matter. She would keep working.

The taxi dropped her off and she slipped a few bills into the plastic slot, then jogged towards the maroon-and-glass building. It was drizzling spring rain and the streets and sidewalks were wet, and Selina used a newspaper to shield her hair as she walked into the building. There was already a secretary there, waiting for her.

"Ms. Kyle," the short, brown-haired secretary greeted her.

"Meg, don't call me that," Selina smiled. "You can call me Selina."

Meg was an intern that was just hired a few weeks ago. She was a smart, adorable young woman that was getting her bachelor's degree in business administration and was learning the ropes of Selena's business. She had a small voice and a small frame, but she was a hard worker and Selina had selected her because she reminded her of herself, sometimes.

"Ms. Kyle…er…I mean, Selina," Meg followed Selina to the elevator, "you don't have an umbrella? Did you know it was supposed to rain today?"

Selina shrugged. "It was sunny this morning, I didn't think we were supposed to get any clouds."

"I'll get you an umbrella as soon as I can."

Selina shook her head. "Really, it's okay, Meg. It's literally five steps from the front doors to the taxi. I won't melt in the rain."

Meg smiled.

The elevator dinged and they both rode it up to the fourth floor, where Selena's main office was. When the business, "Kyle Trading, LLC" was first started, she only rented the first floor. Once it expanded, however, she bought the entire building and renovated. It was now a fresh décor, designed with modern furniture and had lots of glass windows. The black marble tile contrasted against the dark red walls, and the furniture was either black or white. The building had gotten busy, lately, because Kyle Trading had finally decided to go international. Things were more hectic than ever.

As Meg and Selina walked towards her office, Meg handed Selina the usual paperwork.

"Mr. Matthews called again and he wants the company to investigate an old urn he found stored away in his home."

Selina rolled her eyes. "Have our lawyers deal with it first. Last time we looked at an urn, someone's ashes were still inside. I don't want to be involved in another will-and-testament dispute."

"Oh, also, there are a few charity ball invitations for you."

"Yeah? From who?"

"One is from the Garrett mansion," Meg replied.

"Pitch it."

"The other one is from Wayne Manor."

"Hmm…" Selina stopped and looked at Meg. Meg pulled out a small square envelope from her stack of papers and handed it to Selina.

Selina examined it thoughtfully. The envelope was plain and there was black script printed on the front with her name and business address. The return address was Wayne Manor.

"I'll take a look at it and let you know if I want to RSVP."

Meg nodded again and followed Selina into her office.

"Coffee?"

Selina smiled. "Meg…you're an intern, not my indentured servant. You don't have to get me coffee."

Meg nodded. "Sorry."

"But…now that you mention it, could you?"

Meg smiled and nodded again, then left the office.

Selina sat down at her desk and rifled through the papers. Most of them were business as usual. She logged onto her laptop, leaned back, and crossed her legs. It was already 2:00 p.m. She was at the clinic longer than usual. Work was piling up at the company, and she had to start thinking about cutting back on volunteering. She liked to volunteer more than she actually liked working for a paycheck. As she placed her fingers on the side of her head and waited for the computer to boot up, her eyes darted to the invitation. She leaned forward and grabbed it. She flipped it back and forth in her hands, looking at both the back and the front, and mulled over opening it.

She had declined many invitations from Wayne Manor before. This invitation, she knew, was different. This invitation was for the grand opening of Bruce Wayne's new museum. The Emerald Eye was going to be the center of attention.

She sighed. "Oh well, curiosity killed the cat." She used a letter opener to tear the envelope open and she pulled the card out. It was a classy, white card with plain script. Usually, most invitations imitated bad wedding-style invitations, but not Wayne's. It was tasteful and simple. _Probably too simple for a millionaire. Someone else must've designed these._

**Dear Miss Selina Kyle:**

You are most welcome at the Wayne Museum of History and Art this Friday evening for

cocktails and wine at 8:00 p.m. Mr. Wayne humbly asks for your distinguished presence

the night before the grand opening, as your suggestions and comments will be most 

valuable and obliging before we unveil our work before the general public.

Selina snorted. "Leave it to the bigwigs to decide what's best for the average joes." She wasn't surprised that Wayne was holding a private, pre-opening celebration, but she was intrigued that he would want to receive additional comments and suggestions about his own museum. Maybe he was just being polite? It was a way to start conversation, anyway. Old, rich, boring philanthropists never talked about much besides their own hobbies.

She sighed. She didn't want to mingle with the snobs, but she wanted to take a closer look at the Emerald Eye. It had made a trip all the way across the Atlantic and into Gotham City, and she knew that it'd be crazy to pass up the opportunity to examine it up-close and personal. Sure, she could examine it once the museum officially opened, but security would be incredibly tight and there would be too many people. The private party would be more personal, and if Wayne was like any other good curator, he'd keep his displays open for the other richies. The antiques and paintings wouldn't be shielded from cages and glass so the true art appreciator could examine the work in its true state. That's what she hoped, anyway.

Meg walked back in with a steaming mug of coffee.

Selina handed the invitation to Meg. "Could you give Wayne Tower a call and RSVP for me?"

Meg's eyebrows shot up. "You're going?"

Selina shrugged. "I'd rather not, but I'm curious to see his antiques collection. Oh, and find out the dress code, would you?"

Meg nodded. "You don't seem too enthused."

Selina smiled. "I'd love to show up and shock the upstanding, self-importants with jeans and a t-shirt, but I'll try to behave myself. Cross your fingers and hope it's not a black-tie event."

Meg grinned and left the room.

Selina checked her email and started printing out documents for a few clients. She took a sip of her coffee and Meg knocked as she came into view. Selina looked at her, hopeful.

Meg looked apologetic. "It's not black-tie, but..."

"But?"

"It's formal."

Selina sighed. "Damn."


	4. The Wayne Museum of History and Art

Meg was right. The private party was, indeed, formal. Actually, it was very formal. The men weren't in tuxedos, however, they were all dressed in very expensive suits and it might have been cheaper just to rent a tuxedo. Selina didn't understand the richie way of thinking sometimes. Men did not have to purchase thousand-dollar suits or Rolex watches to look good, but they seemed to think different. She knew, though, that they probably didn't purchase expensive suits to look good. They just bought expensive suits because they could. She didn't appreciate that at all, because that kind of money could be donated instead of wasted on a brand name.

She sighed and tried not to think about it. _Be polite_, she told herself. _You are one of them tonight, try to act civil. You've gotta suck up to the yuppies to get good business, anyway._

She had taken a taxi to the Wayne Museum of History and Art and now stood patiently in line as the wealthy patrons proved that their name was on the list and that they could be allowed in. Selina felt odd because she was the only one there that didn't seem to have a date or spouse, and she felt even more out of place that she seemed to be the youngest one present. It was almost like walking into an elite club, and she was uncomfortable. She hated pretending.

The night was damp and chilly, so she was wearing a black peacoat over a stunning, black dress. The dress was very plain – just one color, no bows, sequins, or sparkles – and it was a sleeveless boat-neck that had small bunches at the shoulders. The dress was backless. The bunches tapered off into a drapey, low back that hung down to the small of her back. From the front, it looked like an ordinary black dress that stopped just above the knee. From the back, it was a head-turner. She wasn't wearing any panty hose and her shoes were high-heeled black pumps. Her earrings were sparkling diamonds and she wore a simple silver bracelet. She didn't do anything special with her hair; she kept it as she normally did – bangs pinned back, this time with a sparkling barrette, and the hair was styled into a type of wavy curl, just as a classy 1940's look.

She handed the doorman her invitation. He glanced at it, crossed her name off of the list, and allowed her to enter. She checked her coat and clutched her tiny black handbag and walked through the main hall of the museum.

Waiters were bustling back and forth carrying trays full of hors d'oeuvres, quaint little finger foods, bottles of champagne, and various bottles of wine. There were already people standing around the artwork, discussing Mr. Wayne's work, and pretty much acting important. Selina glanced around. The museum wasn't very large in terms of square footage, but it spanned three floors. In the middle was a large marble staircase that forked into two different directions onto the second floor. Somewhere in the museum, someone was playing the piano and the sound floated down the staircase and echoed slightly off the walls. The first floor was mainly sculptures, statues, and random antiques like painted vases or tea sets, and they were on display out on small pedestals. The walls housed few paintings; instead there were many plaques and inscriptions and awards about different donations made towards charity, scholarships in the arts, and a large portrait of the Wayne family featuring a short biography below it. Selina slowly walked over and examined it.

A man was standing directly behind a woman, who was sitting in a chair. A small, brown-haired boy stood next to the chair and they all grinned out of the portrait. The man, who was skinny and black-haired, wore a pair of glasses and his hands were folded neatly on the chair. The woman, who was a blonde, sat on the very edge of the chair with her back straight. She was wearing a red suit jacket and skirt. The little boy, who looked to be about seven or eight, was grinning although he was obviously stuck in a long-held position for the painter. Below the paining was a gold plaque that read, "In Memoriam of Thomas and Martha Wayne – Gotham City's Original Humanitarians."

Everyone in Gotham City knew that Bruce Wayne's parents were murdered when he was only a small boy, and he was there when it happened. The media was all over it. Selina didn't remember much since she was the same age and didn't pay attention to the news, but she remembered how her parents had grieved over the news. That's when Gotham started to change. The Waynes had poured a lot of hard work and money into restoring the city, and they had nearly succeeded, but their legacy didn't seem to carry. Bruce was too young, and the bigwigs over at Wayne Tower eventually became as corrupt as everything else. Almost twenty years had passed since then, and it was rumored that Bruce had left Gotham, was missing, or even dead since he was never heard from or seen. He had kept a low profile, however, and he was suddenly back in the media, rich and famous, two years ago. Selina assumed that he had to have spent all that time in therapy, if not in college. She automatically stereotyped Bruce Wayne as your typical millionaire – eccentric, haughty, and probably had a lot of skeletons in the closet, not to mention having plenty of personal issues. However, she had to give him credit. He had witnessed the murder of both of his parents, and he still donated his money to charities to help other children. He was cleaning up Gotham as his parents would have done. She couldn't imagine what he must have gone through. The deaths of her own mother and father were hard to bear. It seemed unfair to judge him before even meeting him in person, but all millionaires were the same. It was rare that she met a decent, moral one. After dealing with tons of haughty and prissy clients, rich society in general was enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

She looked around the room. There were groups of older men and women, mostly grey-haired, talking in hushed voices over various pieces of artwork, glasses of wine in their hands. As far as she could tell, Bruce Wayne wasn't on the first floor. She walked around and came upon a rust-colored statue. It looked like an Incan god of some sort, and it was beautifully sculptured. She read the description, which said the statue was excavated out of South America. She slowly walked around each piece and examined the work, but the Emerald Eye wasn't kept on the first floor. Smart move. It'd be harder to steal if it was upstairs.

A waiter came up to her and offered her some wine. She chose a merlot and he handed her a wine glass and poured some wine into it. With that, she decided to go to the second floor.

The second floor housed more sculptures than the first floor did, and the view was more spectacular. There were no windows, and the entire place was dimly lit, but each sculpture and statue had little spotlights over them. Each section on the floor seemed to be focused on geography; half of the room held beautiful Greek and Roman sculptures, mostly made out of marble and copper, and the other half was mostly Spanish and South American. After briefly browsing through, Selina decided to go to the third floor. The Emerald Eye wasn't on the second floor, either.

The third floor was even more spectacular than the second and first floors combined. Paintings adorned the walls and there were more people that were examining them. The murmur of voices grew louder and people were laughing, and Selina began to browse through the sculptures. She was definitely more interested in these; almost the entire floor was African. She had loved Egyptian history and mythology in college, and the artwork was gorgeous. The walls were covered in mostly Middle Eastern and Asian paintings. The center of the room was the main event, and even though Selina couldn't see it, she knew what it was. People were crowded around the Emerald Eye sculpture.

Even though she already knew what it looked like from her prior research, she felt giddy and excited at the thought of seeing it in person. However, she didn't like trying to wiggle her way into the crowd to see the exhibit, so instead she patiently walked across the room and examined the paintings and sculptures. She stopped at a beautiful golden sculpture of a naked woman with the head of a female lion. It was a sculpture of an Egyptian goddess.

Bruce Wayne had been speaking with a group of colleagues when he noticed her. She had entered the room with a glass of red wine and started looking around. She was alone, but she didn't seem to care. Her face lit up as she examined the gorgeous African artwork, and when she turned to look at a specific sculpture, he caught a glimpse of her bare back. _Whoa_. His eyebrows shot up unconsciously and a tiny grin played across his face, but he checked himself and tried to control his surprise. He turned his head to listen to his friend speak about hospital business, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"…Stock's dropping off a bit, but if we just keep a steady eye on it, we should be able to notice some change. It's been relatively stable for a couple weeks."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Scott. It's been pretty sensitive. I say we sell."

"Nah, don't sell. Wait it out for a bit."

"What say you, Bruce?"

"Bruce?"

Bruce snapped to attention. "Hmm?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Aahhm…look, Sean, why don't you let our brokers handle that? What's the rush?"

"I don't want to lose any more money than we already have."

"We haven't _lost_ any money, yet, Sean," Scott argued.

"Listen, take it easy," Bruce shrugged it off. "It'll play out all right."

Before his colleagues could protest, he bowed out of the circle.

"I'll talk to you guys later, okay? I've got to mingle with my guests."

Bruce slowly walked towards her and realized that he didn't know what to say. '_Hi, I'm Bruce Wayne.__'__ Too lame. I hate advertising myself. __'Like that sculpture?'__ Ugh, terrible. Shit._

Selina was so engrossed in the sculpture, and she was reading the inscription below that she hadn't heard footsteps.

"Bast, the Egyptian goddess charged with protecting the people," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "I think this sculpture is close to a few thousand years old."

Selina nodded, but didn't take her eyes off of the statue. She figured another art appreciator was standing next to her. "It's amazing it's weathered the odds for so long. This sculpture looks like it was made just yesterday. Mr. Wayne takes care of his merchandise."

"I try."

Selina glanced up. A tall, dark-haired man with deep brown eyes was looking back at her. He was very handsome and had a prominent square jaw. She noticed that most of his features were from his mother in the portrait, and the only thing noticeable from his father was the hair color. His body, apparently, wasn't from either. Wide shoulders indicated that he probably lifted weights. He was dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and dark red tie. A tiny American flag was pinned to the breast of his coat, and he was holding a small glass of brandy. He smiled gently at her and held out a hand.

"Bruce Wayne."

Selina recovered from her surprise quickly and shook his hand. It was a little rough, like a man's hand ought to be, but his grip wasn't too tight. He wasn't just a paper-pusher, after all. She smiled politely at him.

"Selina Kyle."

Bruce's smile widened. "Miss Kyle! At last! I was hoping you would come. Every time I send out an invitation, I always notice that you're too busy to attend."

His tone was friendly, but she detected a hint of accusation in his voice. However, she was surprised that he even noticed her attendance record.

"Well, Mr. Wayne, I do apologize, but I'm afraid my schedule doesn't allow me to attend charity balls at every point and turn." She sounded a little defensive, but she didn't care. Parties thrown by richies weren't a priority.

Bruce shrugged. "I know what you mean. It's hard for me as well to try to organize these things; my schedule is anything but normal. However, it's all for a good cause, and that's all that matters."

Selina nodded and her eyes darted to the crowd centered around the Emerald Eye. "Of course."

"So, you like ancient Egyptian artwork?"

Selina nodded again. "I used to love it in college. Egyptian mythology, hieroglyphics, the art of mummification."

Bruce smiled. "I was always fascinated about how their deities were human with the head of an animal. For some reason, to me it was a representation about the balance in the world. Humans and animals alike."

Selina glanced at him and gave him a surprised look. It must have shown too much, because he glanced back at her and laughed.

"You must be wondering how I got into this stuff."

_Stuff?_ Selina shrugged. "Well, in all honesty, yes. I figured you spent most of your time at the office, or in hospitals or charity organizations."

Bruce nodded. "Yes, juggling all those things can be a bit overwhelming. Sometimes I'm at construction zones, helping out with the new buildings, visiting the charities, or I'm trying to handle where the money goes. But, it's pretty rewarding to have a hobby like this. The money from the museum goes towards charity as well."

_Hobby? _Selina just nodded.

"And you?" Bruce asked. "I heard you got your start in the antique business. Are you interested in historical artifacts as well?"

Selina nodded again. "I don't really know where my interest came from. At the time, it was just a way to keep myself afloat, and the business just boomed. We've just gone international, however, and I'm thinking about getting experts in from every region of the globe. I, myself, want to focus on Egyptian artifacts."

Bruce smiled. "I congratulate you on that. That sounds exciting. I really admire your work, even if we're across the spectrum."

He was referring to his humanitarian work, while hers was primarily on wildlife. She couldn't tell if he was being genuine, or just polite.

Selina crossed her arms, but she gave him a small grin. "Anything wrong with my end of the spectrum, Mr. Wayne?" She took a sip of her wine.

Bruce held a hand up. "No, of course not! You can't have one without the other. We definitely need SPCA's and wildlife refuges. I'm actually thinking of copycatting your idea and donating money myself."

Selina smiled at the word. "Any organization in particular?"

"I was hoping for your professional opinion. If there's one out there that really needs the money, you would know."

Selina appreciated the fact that he wanted to donate money to animals, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he was only saying it to impress her. If he was truly interested in it, he would have researched the matter himself, and he would already have an idea of which organization to donate to. Millionaires had the luxury to throw out money on a whim, but she didn't like the way he used charity to try to pick up women.

Selina took another sip of her wine, but didn't take her eyes off of him. He watched her, anticipating an answer. "Mr. Wayne," she replied, "what you do with your money is not my concern. I'm not going to tell you where to spend it."

"No, but your input is valuable. And please, call me Bruce. Is there a specific organization you'd prefer me to donate to?"

Selina smiled and shook her head. She'd caught him. He'd donate to a manure factory if she told him to. It was the wrong way to donate. She didn't want him to impress her. She wanted him to donate out of genuine concern, but obviously in this case, he didn't care.

She took a step towards him, looked at him directly in the eye, and said in a low voice, "_Mr. Wayne_, if you really care about it so much, I trust you'll research the matter correctly and make the right decision."

It was a challenge, and he knew it. He stared back into her striking, green eyes. His smile didn't waver. Instead, it widened, and his eyes sparkled. She was passionate about her work, and he had just made it sound like he could buy her appreciation. It wasn't deliberate, of course, but he realized that she took it that way. She wasn't smiling back at him, but she wasn't frowning, either. She was controlling her facial expression, and he couldn't tell how angry she had gotten, but her eyes looked determined. _What a woman_.

Her eyes darted to the center of the room. The large crowd had eventually dispersed, and the Emerald Eye was free to examine without interruption. Bruce followed her gaze and grinned again.

"May I?" she asked.

Bruce held out a hand. "Please."

She walked towards the exhibit and Bruce followed her.

The Emerald Eye was a statue of a thin, slinky cat in sitting position. It was only a little over a foot tall, and it was made entirely of silver. The left eye of the cat was made out of gold and black marble, but the right eye was a sparkling, green emerald. The unusual thing about the cat, which was why it was so renowned, was that there were hieroglyphic engravings throughout its entire body. Its feet, tail, head, and torso were completely covered in the tiny engravings. Nobody knew why one eye was made out of an emerald and the other gold, and historians could only speculate why the whole cat was silver. It was an Egyptian-made artifact, but usually their treasure was gold. Silver was a hard commodity to come by. The overall price of the Emerald Eye wasn't because of the worth of the silver, but because of the unique carvings and eyes.

Selina couldn't help but gawk. Bruce watched her.

"It's absolutely beautiful," she breathed.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied softly. "It was harder than hell to get."

Selina glanced at him. "Why'd you want it so badly?"

"The museum is mostly for the Gotham City public. Only a small entrance fee is charged, and that entrance fee all goes towards art scholarships. But I wanted the public to experience rare art and appreciate the history and magnificence behind it. Gotham doesn't have many museums, so I wanted to do what I could to give them that experience, even if it meant getting the rarest items possible."

Selina nodded. It was a good explanation, and she admired his resolve, but…

"I take it that you just bid for it because it was on the museum's-most-wanted list?"

Bruce examined Selina for a bit, then looked at the statue. "That's part of it, yes. The other part because it'll give everyone a glimpse of a rare masterpiece."

Selina examined the statue, but couldn't help but silently disagree. The statue existed because the cat was revered in Egypt as an ancient guardian. It killed disease-carrying mice and rats, poisonous snakes, and was thought to protect the living from the dead. Egyptian housecats were always decorated in gold collars and treated like royalty. Selina assumed the emerald eye existed because it had a keen eye for all things and used its instinct to protect man; the other eye was in gold to represent the normal tendencies of a cat. No explanation of the sort was on the inscription below. Instead it described the origin of the Emerald Eye, how much its estimated worth was, and what year it was obtained. _Pitiful_. It seemed that Bruce Wayne wanted it because it was hard to get. He didn't understand its actual significance.

She must have had a look of disapproval on her face, because Bruce noticed.

"Is there something wrong?"

Selina glanced at Bruce, then back at the statue. She smiled and cleared her throat. "Um…no, sorry. Well, it's just that…"

"What?"

Selina motioned towards the descriptive plaque. "If you want Gotham to appreciate rare art, then you need to fire your historians."

Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise and was about to ask her for details, but her cell phone rang. She dug around in her purse and pulled it out.

"Excuse me," she nodded apologetically to him.

Bruce nodded.

"Selina Kyle," she answered. "Marie? It's late! What are you doing at the clinic?"

Bruce watched as her inquisitive eyes grew concerned. She closed her eyes and slapped her palm to her forehead.

"Shoot, that's right." She sighed. After another pause, her brow furrowed and she nodded.

"Sure, I'll be right there." She checked her watch. It was already 9:30 p.m. "But, if the surgery's done, what do you need me for?"

There was another long pause. "Of course. If you had to guess, what would your prediction be?"

Bruce watched her as her eyes slowly closed again. Whatever it was, it wasn't good news.

Selina swore under her breath and shook her head. "It's what I expected. I was just hoping I was wrong. Okay. Okay, I won't be long. Bye."

"Is everything all right?" Bruce asked her, concerned.

Selina shook her head. "We've got a sick cat at the SPCA, but he's slipping. We've tried everything we could, but…"

Bruce nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry."

Selina put her phone back into her purse and sighed. "Well, we haven't tried everything we could. We've tried everything the SPCA could afford, really." She shook her head again. "It's damn frustrating."

Bruce nodded again and tried to say something uplifting. "Well…at least it's just an animal. Imagine getting that call from a children's hospital. The news is always devastating."

Selina looked at him and slightly narrowed her eyes. _Just an animal?_ Either he was trying to one-up her by comparing his duties to hers, or he did a terrible job at trying to make her feel better. The look in her eyes almost made Bruce take a step back.

"Mr. Wayne," she said in a controlled tone, "it may be just an animal to you, but it is a family member to a couple out there. They've had that cat for fifteen years and now I'll have to call them to tell them that it's dying. I understand that the human race takes precedence over everything else, but I would hope that you treat the matter with respect in the future."

Bruce sighed and looked at the ground. She was definitely stubborn, but she was truthful. He admired that. She didn't suck up to him because of his wealth. In fact, she seemed the exact opposite. He looked back up at her and took a step towards her. She held her ground and kept her gaze on him.

"I didn't mean to insult you, Miss Kyle," he said softly. His voice had completely changed from a deep, proud tone to soothing and sultry. There was something in his voice that reverberated through her body and made her stomach do flip-flops. It didn't help that he was staring straight into her eyes. She swallowed and nodded slowly.

"I apologize for leaving early," she replied. "Thank you for inviting me to your museum, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce," he murmured.

She ignored his request and nodded towards the statues. "Your exhibits truly are breathtaking."

"I wish you would come again sometime," he replied. "I would love to talk to you some more about your work."

She glanced at him and gave him a small smile. "Goodbye. It was nice to finally meet you."

Bruce nodded. "My pleasure." His tone hadn't changed.

With that, she turned and headed towards the stairwell. She felt his gaze upon her the entire time, and she was glad that he couldn't see her face turning pink. _What a way to make a departure,_ she thought. _I tried to be tough and here I go, showing __off__ my bare back._She let out a deep breath and reached the first floor, handing her empty wine glass to a waiter. _He was pompous, anyway. Didn't even understand his own art. I probably won't have to see him again._

Bruce Wayne took a gulp of his brandy and glanced at the Emerald Eye. _She thinks I'm a jackass,_ he thought. _I'm definitely going to have to make it up to her._ As he stared at the exhibit, he tried to think of a way to bump into her again.


	5. Rosa

Selina sighed and closed the door to her apartment. Flicking on a light, she tossed her keys onto the counter and hung her peacoat in the closet next to the door. She kicked off her pumps, strolled over to a heavily-cushioned white couch, and collapsed in it. She placed her fingers on her temple and slowly closed her eyes.

The cat, Snowball, hadn't made it. It was so old that it didn't even survive the surgery, which was at least a good thing it died while asleep. The cancer was even worse than Selina had initially predicted; not only was there a tumor on its gut, but smaller little cysts had developed all over the small intestine that even a real veterinarian clinic would not have been able to save him. Marie had called her over to the SPCA clinic because she felt that it would be better for Selina to make the call to the Clements. Selina hated making phone calls. She could only imagine what real doctors had to go through. She remembered the doctor that came up to her in the hospital waiting room, when she was waiting on the prognosis for her father. It was another reason Selina didn't become a full veterinarian. She hated putting animals down, and she hated to bear the bad news to its family.

Mrs. Clements was utterly grief-stricken, but Mr. Clements seemed to have known it was coming. Mrs. Clements insisted on being there when the cat was put down, and she cried and carried on over the phone. It took Selina almost a half an hour to convince Mrs. Clements that the cat was already down and they couldn't delay any longer. Selina and Marie didn't want the cat's owners coming to visit while it was in mid-surgery because it would just make things for them worse; instead she had assured Mrs. Clements that Snowball was already asleep and would die peacefully.

Selina glanced around her dim apartment. It was a one bed, one bath apartment, but it was incredibly spacious and was very expensive. As soon as you'd walk in the front door, across the living room was a large balcony and glass doors that opened out to it. The view was fantastic, since the complex was in the heart of Gotham City. The carpet was a soft beige, the walls a maroon color that were decorated with black and white portraits. A white couch and a white loveseat sat in the living room on the left side, then there was a cherry wood coffee table in the middle of the room, and the fireplace was on the right. To the right of the front door was the small kitchen with a tiny bar countertop. Black stools had been placed at the bar. The ceilings were very high, almost imitating a type of mountain resort lodge, but she liked her comfy abode. It wasn't too big for a single person, and it wasn't too small. Once a week she had a housekeeper come by. The housekeeper wasn't necessary, really, but she had met her by accident.

Rosa was in the middle of finishing up grocery shopping late Saturday night when she was mugged. The mugger had a knife and wanted all her money, but Rosa didn't have that much money to give, so he became angry and threatened to cut her. That's when Catwoman jumped into the alley and beat the mugger unconscious, left scratches all over his face, and even took his own stolen money and gave it to Rosa. Rosa was so overwhelmed at the sight of her savior that she promised that she'd do anything for her in return.

"Por favor," she had pleaded. "Tengo cinco bebés! No tengo mucho dinero. Dos chicos y tres chicas, por favor la dama de gato, no hablo inglés, necissito ayuda, necessito dinero…Haré algo quiere…Usted es una signo de Dios…Le debo mi vida!"

She was poor at English and only knew a few select words. Catwoman had tried to leave the woman, but for some strange reason, Rosa hadn't been afraid of her. Instead, she took it as a sign from God. She was spared that night, and in return, she would offer Catwoman her services. It was strange, but Catwoman had decided not to turn her away, and brought her to her apartment. Because she had been studying international trade, she knew some Spanish, and she managed to make Rosa swear confidentiality on her identity. Rosa had been her housekeeper for eight months and had remained loyal to her. Even though she only came by once a week to tidy up and take care of Selina's cat, Selina paid her more than enough. Rosa had been telling the truth that night. She really did have five sons and daughters, and her husband had left her when she was pregnant with the fifth child. She had struggled in Gotham City since then, migrating there in order to find a better life, but she spent all day in a factory earning minimum wage.

When Selina was resting, she noticed that the light in her bedroom was on, but it clicked off and Isis trotted out of the hallway, into the living room.

Selina smiled. "Hi, sweetie."

Isis meowed.

Rosa came into the room, following Isis, with a bundle of sheets in one hand. She was a short woman, plump from five pregnancies, but still had a slender face. Her dark hair was tied into a high bun and she stopped in the living room, glancing at Selina over the white bundle. She shook a finger at her.

"That cat sleeps on your bed and gets the hair all over," she scolded her. "You don't know where it's been!"

Her accent was thick, but she had managed to learn English pretty well.

Selina smiled at Rosa. "Why would I keep my windows closed? I don't want to imprison the poor thing. It sure makes existence pointless."

Rosa sighed. "Ay, Dios mio, but Gotham City is filthy! What if it tracks filth into your room?"

"Rosa, you know I don't like you to work at night."

Rosa shook her head and waved a hand. "I'm all right."

"When you leave, let me know so I can call a taxi for you."

"I can walk, chica, it's okay."

"Not this late. Please? I don't like it when old women with five babies walk out into the alleyways."

Rosa raised an eyebrow at Selina. "Who you calling old?"

Selina gave her a playful grin.

Rosa turned around and headed to the kitchen to tend to some dishes. Selina got up and walked into her bedroom, Isis close at her heels. She woke up her laptop from sleep, then closed the drapes and started to change.

"Oh, tambien," Rosa called from the kitchen. "I was learning to use internet like you told me to, and I found a website you might like."

Selina pulled her leather pants on. "Oh yeah?"

"Sí…"

Rosa's voice had a hint of mischief in it. Selina glanced at the laptop screen. A window had already been pulled up. She narrowed her eyes and looked closer, then sighed. "An online dating service?"

"Sí!"

"Rosa, I don't have time to date."

Rosa came back into the room and picked up Selina's dirty laundry as she was taking it off. "Ay, ay, ay, you always say you have no time, so I think maybe you find someone online? You're always online."

"I am not."

"Are too. And so what? Maybe you find a nice young man, eh?"

Selina rolled her eyes. "I have no time for men."

"Bah. Look at you, bonita, you are a gift from God. I feel sorry for all those men out there. Hearts are breaking for you todo lo mundo, bonita."

Isis jumped onto the bed, but Rosa picked her up and put her on the floor.

"No, gatito, no! I just changed those sheets! Vaya! Go play with mice, eh?"

Selina smiled at her and fitted into her jumpsuit. She turned around, picked up the bustier, and motioned for Rosa to tie the back. Rosa obliged and tugged at the strings.

"So you're going out tonight, eh?"

Selina sighed. "I need to release some steam."

"I worry when you do this, chica."

"I'll be fine, Rosa."

"I know you're doing this to help…pero…la policia…"

"I won't get caught by the police."

Rosa sighed. "I'm not your mother, bonita, but I would much rather see you with a man than in jail."

Selina smiled. "You wouldn't approve of any of the men I meet."

"You eat men for breakfast, bonita. They're scared of you. You don't give them a chance."

Selina smiled wider and thought of Bruce Wayne. He was handsome, smart, and a gentleman…but he was rich. Someone that rich also had to be haughty, stuck-up, and oblivious to everything else around him except for his own work. She hadn't even given him a chance to get to know her. She didn't want him to get to know her. She definitely didn't want to get to know him. Selina shrugged.

"That's how I like it right now."

"I guess it's better than me," Rosa tugged on the upper strings and tied a tight knot. "I go and have five kids and no husband."

"That wasn't your fault, Rosa," Selina turned around and faced her.

"I know," Rosa smiled, "I just meant that we are all blessed, one way or another. Now, put on your face."

Selina pulled the hood over her head and tugged it over her eyes. Rosa helped tuck in her hair and she walked to the bathroom to apply the makeup.

"I picked up those things you asked for," Rosa nodded towards the sink.

Selina looked at the sink ledge. There were two contact lenses soaking in solution, ready to be applied.

"Good," she breathed. "Let's see how they look."

She gingerly put each contact lens into her eye and blinked. They made her eyes water and she closed her eyes, blinked, closed them again, and stared down at the sink. They didn't really affect her vision at all, and they were thin enough and colorful enough to hide her true eye color. Her original eye color, green, was so striking that she was worried someone, somehow, would eventually notice if she happened to get up-close and personal with a guard on night watch, a thug, or a random innocent bystander. The new contact lenses were a bright, yellowish orange. Perfect for a cat. Rosa had purchased them so Selina Kyle wouldn't be linked towards anything suspicious, even on such bizarre grounds as purchasing Halloween contact lenses.

Rosa curled a lip. "No lo me gusta," she shook her head. "You look scary, chica."

"As long as I don't look recognizable," Selina replied. She lifted her head and looked in the mirror.

The lenses were, indeed, different. The orange and yellow color clashed with the green a little, giving the eyes a somewhat amber look. It wasn't a normal eye color, however, and it definitely worked with her outfit. She smirked.

"I'll have to get used to them, but so far so good," she said. She applied the rest of the makeup: pale concealer, blood red lipstick, dark eyeshadow and eyeliner, and mascara.

Selina walked back to her room and laced up her boots. Isis jumped on the bed again and started pacing back and forth against her, meowing softly.

"Are you excited we get to go out tonight?" she asked the cat. "Me, too."

"I hope you take that thing with," Rosa cocked her head towards the cat. "It's been so hyperactive. You need to be home more, chica."

Selina sighed. "And do what? Watch T.V.? Read the news? Sit back and relax while Gotham is slowly plunging itself into obscurity?"

Selina's condo was expensive enough to have a private elevator, one that can only go up to her room with a key. It was primarily for privacy, since she didn't exactly want to meet any neighbors or explain herself when walking out into the hall dressed as if she were going to an S & M party. She opened the door and strode down the short hallway, pressing the elevator button. Isis followed her out and sat on its haunches, tail twitching in excitement.

Rosa sighed in exasperation and followed her out into the hall. "Sí! Let the Batman fly around and fight crime; he's making things better, chica. I don't see why you feel you have to do the same."

Selina sighed and the elevator chimed. The doors slowly opened and she stepped in, giving Rosa an apologetic look. "I fight for something everyone else has forgotten."

Rosa pressed her lips together and leaned against the wall in defeat. "You be careful."

Selina nodded. "I will."

As the doors closed, Selina yelled through the crack. "And call a cab when you go home!"


	6. The Confrontation

**Author's Note:** This actually wasn't the confrontation I originally envisioned, but I wanted to keep it realistic. It just came out differently as I was writing (don't you hate it when that happens?). There will be more encounters, trust me...but I wanted to give the characters a tiny taste of each other first.

* * *

It wasn't easy to hop rooftops, but it could be done. It took Catwoman months and months of practice before she really got it down, but now she was used to it. It was simply a matter of which buildings to take and how well she knew the city. Skyscrapers were out of the question unless it was an emergency. Smaller buildings were risky because it was easier to be seen by the police. Buildings with awnings and fire escapes were ideal, and flagpoles helped. If a building was too far to jump, Catwoman would try using her whip to swing across. There was rarely a time when she had to break into an office or apartment for shortcuts, but she knew how to pick locks if the situation arose.

Her own particular building was sort of a problem, since it was a condominium and offered lots of space and privacy to the renters. There weren't any buildings within jumping distance, so she had to go all the way up to the roof and climb back down the fire escape to avoid being seen. Once she was halfway down the fire escape, which was hidden off to the back of the building, she had to use her whip to try to swing over to the other building's fire escape. It definitely wasn't graceful, and wasn't fast like in the movies. She always had to try several times to get her whip to correctly intertwine over the railings, and then it would have to be sturdy enough to support her weight. She always avoided going out in the rain because traversing across rooftops was a nightmare when it was wet.

Isis would loyally cling across the back of her neck, hanging on tightly during the swing. Catwoman would use her feet to stop her momentum on the brick wall, then carefully climb up over the fire escape railing. She would then climb up the ladder to the rooftop and do the whole thing over again. The hard part would be over when she would finally reach buildings that were closer together. If the gaps between them narrowed and if the buildings were relatively the same height, then she could start running and jumping. Unfortunately, she lived in the main city of Gotham where skyscrapers and large churches were located, so she had a long way to go. Sometimes Catwoman drove a company car home and Rosa would drive her to an empty alleyway and drop her off, but tonight she had ridden home in a cab and she felt like getting the exercise.

Her destination was nowhere in particular. She wanted to keep her eyes and ears open for any opportunities, however. She had planned on just sitting and watching Wayne's new museum to study the security shifts and analyze their alarm system, but on her way over she caught a brief flash of light inside a dark building. She stepped over to the edge of the building she was on and peeked over, across the street. The old jewelry store was dark and locked up, but there were still people inside. They weren't security guards. The two robbers were trying to steal anything they could get into, but they were sloppy. Catwoman had noticed their flashlights.

"Uh oh," she smiled to herself. Isis jumped off her shoulders and rubbed against her legs.

"They're doing it all wrong," she whispered to the cat. "If they're going to get themselves noticed, then I think it's only fair to teach them the right way to steal."

Catwoman gingerly took the fire escape down to the alley, then peeked out towards the street. It was empty. She was in a more desolate part of town, so she felt safe about being on the ground. She quickly trotted across the street and headed down the alley, towards the back of the building. The door was wide open. She poked her head in the door frame and examined the service entrance, thinking to herself.

"There's no security alarm…" she whispered. She didn't want to enter the building, however. If these two were stupid enough to crash the place and leave evidence behind, she wouldn't stop them. Instead, she reached over to a nearby fire alarm and pulled the handle.

The alarm immediately blared and emergency strobe lights flashed down the hallway. Catwoman heard yelling and she leaned against the back alley wall, waiting for them to emerge.

"What the hell is that?"

"Forget it! Let's just get out of here before the cops come!"

Footsteps thundered down the hall and the first robber emerged. He was wearing a ski mask, a thick black coat, jeans, and gloves. He was carrying a leather bag that was hastily zipped up. Catwoman could still see a string of pearls dangling out of it. The moment he reached the alleyway, however, he saw her and came to a skidding halt. She hadn't budged; instead, she gave him a small grin and a nod.

"What the hell…?"

Before he could react or say anything more, Catwoman extended her foot and kicked him squarely across the face. He immediately fell to the ground and held his nose, moaning loudly. The blow had disoriented him and he didn't recover from the shock right away, but the bag had been dropped and she picked it up. The first thug rolled on the ground in pain, squeezing his eyes together and holding his hands to his face. The second thug emerged from the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks. Upon seeing his incapacitated friend, he immediately dropped his bag of loot and drew a pistol.

Catwoman was anticipating this and snapped her whip towards his weapon; it cracked at his wrist and the gun was flung from his grasp, landing against the brick alley wall and letting out a premature shot. They both ducked on instinct, but then the thief pulled out a knife and held it ready.

Catwoman held out her hand. "Now, now," she cooed. "To the victor go the spoils. I'd like to see what you've got in that bag."

"Forget it, lady," the guy growled. "Piss off!"

He lunged at her and jabbed the knife towards her chest. She stepped out of the way and punched the elbow of his extended arm. He grunted angrily and tried to stab at her again, but she grabbed his wrist and twisted it. He let out a loud yell and dropped the knife as she twisted and jerked his arm, then kicked him in the kneecap. He yelled out loud again and she gave him a knee to the stomach. He doubled over and took two steps back, but her attacks seemed to be making him angrier. He took one last lunge at her, but she had reached over to her wrist and pushed a tiny button. She avoided another punch and blocked a few more strikes before swiping hard at his face. The theif let out a loud howl and put a hand to his cheek. She had made four long cuts across the side of his face, and he stumbled backwards and tripped over his own loot bag. Scrambling back up, the robber swirled around and started to run.

The claws were essentially built-in razor blades, constructed into a makeshift skeleton that lined the inside of Catwoman's gloves and were loaded onto springs that shot out at the press of a button. The skeleton was constructed by one of Catwoman's close (and anonymous) friends who was also into a little S that way Catwoman was able to get ahold of the ample leather and whip for her costume. The box cutters were not originally part of the skeleton-like claw, but it had been modified in case Catwoman needed something sharp. They were spring-action because if they were out constantly, she would have eventually cut herself, cut the whip as she was using it, or even inadvertently jam her fingers if she was trying to climb something. It was a dangerous tool to use, but in circumstances like these, it was great for self-defense. The thief would need hundreds of stitches. She examined her claws; they were bloody. Blood was easily traceable, but not if she wasn't found. She pressed the button again and the razor blades retracted.

Catwoman hurriedly stuffed the smaller sack into the bigger duffel bag the first robber had and zipped it up. The first robber tried to stumble up and was still gripping his nose, but she dug her heel into his back and he was shoved back down, groaning in pain.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't move," she said flatly. She checked the bag's weight and decided it wasn't too heavy and immediately started climbing up the fire escape. There were distant sirens and the loud, roaring honk of a fire truck. The police and the fire squad would arrive soon. She left the first robber on the ground and allowed the second one to get away in order to distract the police. They would be chasing him and not her. Wrapping her whip around her waist and slinging the large satchel around her shoulders, she kicked her legs over the edge of the building and started to run across the rooftop. The buildings were close together and she continued to leap across rooftops, jogging nonchalantly and putting the loud noise of sirens behind her. If the theif had a story about a crazy woman dressed in leather, they'd never believe him. She knew that the police would eventually catch the second robber, and they would more than likely assume that one had punched the other before taking off with the loot. By the time the investigation would be over, Catwoman would be safe and sound. She couldn't help but smile to herself. It had been all too easy.

Isis was trotting after her faithfully, not making a sound. She was an alley cat that Catwoman had found a few years earlier, but discovered that the cat was more than meets the eye. It wasn't a normal housecat; instead it was cross-bred with a wild breed and a domestic cat, much like an Egyptian Mau or Ocelot, but black instead of spotted. It was slimmer and sleeker than most cats; its ears much larger and its eyes a brilliant yellow. Catwoman had also learned that it was incredibly intelligent and was previously trained to do tricks and other various activities, such as open latches, press buttons, fetch small items, and even meow on command. It was rare, but not uncommon – Catwoman remembered seeing such animals do those types of things at pet shows and even in the circus or amusement parks. Her charity work usually led her to various types of organizations that used animals for entertainment, and she felt incredibly sour about how animals were trained for profit. They belonged in the wild.

However, after feeding the alley cat and turning it loose, it knew Catwoman's scent and kept following her at night when she would try a heist. The two were inseparable after that, although Catwoman always gave it the chance to leave the apartment. It never wanted to. Catwoman decided to name her Isis after the Egyptian goddess. Isis was an incredibly loyal and talented cat. She would trip alarms to distract the police, slip into a small bank or jewelry store during a shift change to distract guards from their cameras, and she would even wedge herself between the door and the frame while a guard would walk out so Catwoman could get in.

After hopping a few more buildings and considering the area to be safe, Catwoman knelt down on a rooftop to examine the goods she had intercepted. She would dispose of the useless items and keep the ones she could sell. She zipped open the bag and placed a claw into it, pulling out a string of pearls and tossing it to the side. As she dug deeper, she had noticed that the thieves were keen on collecting loose diamonds. That, she could definitely sell. She tossed the cheap-looking necklaces, dangling earrings, a few tiaras…large diamond rings and earrings would stay, expensive Rolex watches – definitely – a large diamond bracelet, oh to be sure…

Catwoman was busy examining the merchandise when Isis hissed and let out a low growl. She stood up and whipped around to find a dark, hunched over creature watching her.

It was Batman.

The image in front of her made her blood run cold. He was squatting on the building ledge completely wrapped in his cape, just like a giant bat, and he stared at her with dark, cold eyes. His mask made his entire face look completely ominous. She had never encountered Batman before, nor had she ever wanted to. He was obviously good at catching criminals, and she did not want to cross his bad side. She didn't know if he had ever hurt or killed anyone, or how crazy he actually was, and she didn't want to find out. Her mind was screaming at her to flee, but her body wouldn't obey. She was frozen. Her heart pounded loudly and she ignored the sudden dryness in her throat. Just by staring at him she knew that she was no match for him. She didn't even hear him land on the building. She had overestimated her chances; she had thought that Batman was too busy catching murderers, rapists, drug addicts, or gang members to bother with a small jewelry heist. Catwoman gritted her teeth. _Damn. Business must be slow tonight._

Batman slowly straightened up and his cape softly flapped in the breeze. Catwoman couldn't help but watch with slight awe…and shock. He was completely covered in body armor and nothing showed except for his eyes and jaw. Everything was black. He even had makeshift ears. She had read the papers, but the descriptions were much different from the real thing. As she looked him up and down, she couldn't help but smile out of the corner of her mouth. It was funny how she had considered him a complete psycho, yet here she was dressed just like him.

As he took a step forward, she took a step back.

"A little late to be having a stroll," he said in a flat, gruff tone.

Catwoman smirked. He was masking his voice. She did the same. While his was a growling whisper, hers was deep and sultry.

"I could say the same for you," she replied. "Besides, it's a nice night."

Batman's dark eyes darted to the duffel bag.

"Admiring the scenery."

It was more of an accusation than a question. Catwoman glanced at the duffel bag. The string of pearls and a few jewels were littered where she had tossed them. She was caught completely red-handed. She tried to act nonchalant.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag."

Batman didn't answer. He took another slow step forward, and she took another step back.

Catwoman was scared shitless, but she refused to show it. Given the situation, however, the jewelry was no longer a priority, and all she wanted to do was escape. She did not want to wind up in jail because of this, and she really hated the thought of a giant bat turning her over to the cops. She ignored her deafening heartbeat and tried to quickly come up with something. She would lose if she fought him. Her best chance was to somehow get away. Running wouldn't work. Her surging adrenaline gave her a brave visage, and she tried to use it to her advantage.

She glanced down at Isis. The cat's hair was standing on end, but it had stopped its hissing. It watched Batman warily, but Catwoman slowly raised her fingers and made a soft hushing sound. Batman's eyes traveled to her hand, to the cat, then back up to her. Isis looked up at Catwoman and its fur was slowly sinking back down as it relaxed.

Catwoman held up her index finger. Isis sat on its haunches.

"Wait there, darling," Catwoman said in a low voice. Batman had to strain to hear her. Suddenly, Catwoman strode up to him. He wasn't expecting it, and she hardly expected it from herself either. When all else fails, try the direct approach. After all, a predator expects you to run away. It doesn't expect you to run towards it. Catwoman put a hand on her hip and stopped in front of him. A tiny plan was forming in her head. It wasn't much, but it was something. If anything, she had the raw, primal instincts of nature on her side. After all, Batman was still just a man – and her incredibly slinky but curvy body was clad in tight leather. If you dangle a juicy piece of meat in front of a lion long enough, it'll eventually go berserk.

"All right, Bats. You caught me. The jig's up. What are you going to do? Arrest me?"

Batman didn't reply. As he examined her, he narrowed his eyes again and moved under his cape. Catwoman watched his arm pull out a pair of small, black handcuffs from under the black cape.

_Shit_.

She smiled and shook her head.

"Something the matter?" Batman asked her quietly.

"I've gotta admit, Bats, I wasn't expecting you to actually have cuffs. What the hell do you carry under there?"

Batman seemed slightly annoyed at being called a nickname and didn't share any signs of humor. On the contrary, he didn't look like he was enjoying himself too much.

"Let's be honest," Catwoman stepped closer and felt her bravery spike. Batman watched her closely, not moving an inch. She took another step, making sure she was close enough within reach, but not quite. She cocked her head in the direction of the jewelry store. "This shouldn't matter to you. That's an old mom-and-pop shop, probably ready to rot anyway. I just did the owners a favor, Bats. They'll collect the insurance money and finally be able to retire. The scumbags that originally broke into the place will be thrown into jail, and I'll be on my merry way."

With that, she turned away from him and began walking, strutting her body a little more than usual and making sure he saw. "Why don't you go catch a drug dealer or two? Surely there's got to be a potential murderer from Arkham running around town. They're more important than this."

Batman shot out and grabbed her wrist; it wasn't very forceful, but she had walked far enough away from him that he had to catch up to grab her. She hadn't even heard him move.

_Shit, h__e's quick._

He yanked her back and she turned around to face him. Even though he wasn't forceful with her, she purposely overcompensated and put a hand up to his chest. With soft grunt, she pressed up against his chest and looked up at him. He immediately knew what she was trying to do and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her away.

Catwoman was testing his armor. There was no way her claws would pierce through that. Hell, it was probably bulletproof. Where did he _find_ something like that?

She could have shot a hand out towards his face, but she didn't want to resort to bloodshed. So far he hadn't hurt her, and she technically didn't want to hurt one of the good guys.

"The law's the law," Batman replied gruffly.

"You can't pin it on me," Catwoman stepped closer to him and raised her chin towards him. "The police already have the perpetrators."

"But not the loot." He still hadn't let her shoulders go. He didn't want her to suddenly get away.

"If I give it back?" Her voice turned softer, as if she was about to tell him a secret, and she stepped closer. Their chests were nearly touching.

Batman didn't reply. He tried to push her away again but she braced herself and stepped into him.

"How do you know if I was even stealing it, Bats? For all you know, I was going to turn it into the police myself."

Batman narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, Bats," Catwoman leaned in and made sure her whispers played on his lips. He turned his head and she smiled at his cheek. "I'm a vigilante…like you. I just play differently."

Her heart was pounding, but she was going to try it. If she did, it would possibly leave an imprint on him and cloud his judgment. If he felt her lips, maybe he'd go soft on her. If she manipulated him long enough, she'd be able to get away.

Batman wasn't falling for it. He pushed her shoulders back again and glared at her.

"Leave it here," he growled, "and don't let me catch you again."

He swirled around, his black cape trailing after him, and he stood on the ledge of the building. He turned his head and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

"Go, now."

Catwoman narrowed her eyes. He had just reprimanded her as if she was five years old, and it had struck a nerve. She was free to go, she was going to escape jail, and best of all, she wasn't going to have to fight a madman as she had originally thought. Batman seemed relatively sane. In an almost disappointing way, he seemed to have followed the laws of Gotham City to pefection. _Hmph_.

She curled a lip at him and glanced at the duffel bag. Batman had just given her a free ticket out of here, but because he had spurned her, she was compelled to grab the jewels just to spite him. Isis was still sitting in her spot loyally, but Catwoman rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, prompting the cat to trot over to her and rub against her legs. She had told Rosa she needed to release steam. She sighed audibly. She hadn't quite anticipated releasing steam on Batman, but it would have to do. For some reason, just looking at him made her irate. He was better than her. It bothered her. _How the hell could I be arrested for something I'm trying to do for the greater good? And just what exactly gives him the authority to arrest me, anyway?_

She bent over and picked up Isis, cradling her against her chest and taking a few steps towards Batman, who had turned slightly to watch her.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," she said flatly. Batman stared at her.

"Say goodbye to the bat," Catwoman whispered to Isis, keeping her eyes on Batman. He narrowed his eyes. He probably thought she was nuts.

He was still hunched under his cape, but suddenly the cat's ears began to flatten. Before he could react, Catwoman made a fast, hissing sound like, "Psssspssssspsssspssss," and the cat hissed and bared its teeth as she hurled it at him.

Isis landed on his face and immediately began to claw and bite. Batman tried to grab it by the collar and yank it off, but it was a wild cat and its long claws were deeply embedded into the rubber mask. To make things worse under the cat's frenzy, he couldn't see, and Batman suddenly felt himself hurtling backwards off the building as Catwoman gave him a hard kick to the stomach. Isis jumped off just in time and Catwoman scooped her up, putting her around her neck and grabbing the duffel bag, making a break for the service entrance.

Batman landed in a large pile of garbage bags and immediately rolled back up. Luckily, the building was not that far off the ground and he had taken some far worse falls. Licking his lips, he tasted blood from the scratches the cat had given him, and he clenched his teeth in anger as he yanked out a grappling hook.

Catwoman picked the lock with ease and yanked the door open. If she had tried to hop rooftops, she would never outrun him, and she knew that he would recover quickly from the fall. She needed to get to lower ground. She only hoped that he thought she was running from above.

Lifting himself over the lip of the rooftop, Batman looked around. The duffel bag was gone; only a select few necklaces and earrings littered the ground. He strode across the rooftop and narrowed his eyes, scanning the horizon and hoping she was somewhere near. She couldn't have gotten far. His eyes darted to the service entrance and he grabbed the doorknob. It was locked. Even if she had taken that route, he wouldn't follow. He doubted she did. It was too public an area, and the stairway was probably heavily lit.

She was lucky it was late; most of the businesses were closed and the few tenants that lived here were already asleep. She took the main stairwell all the way down and headed towards the back exit. Hesitating, she stood in front of the door, heart pounding. He could be on the other side, waiting for her. Or, he could have climbed back up the building and was looking for her amongst the rooftops. Or, he had climbed the building and was waiting for her to come out. Her options were risky, but she couldn't stay here. She gently and quietly pressed against the silver bar, unlocking the door and opening it a crack. Isis slipped off her shoulders and exited first. If there was a hiss, meow, or low growl, it wasn't safe. Isis would have smelled him or at least seen him. There was nothing but silence.

Catwoman pushed the door open wider and stuck her head out, twisting herself to see above her, up the brown brick walls and towards the edge of the building. There wasn't any movement or sound; not that it mattered. She knew, however, that being dressed completely in black had its advantages. In the dark alley at this time of night amongst endless bags of garbage, she could blend in. All she had to do was curl into the fetal position with her back facing up, and she'd look like a bag of garbage herself.

Batman slowly paced around the building. He was a block away now, trying to decide which way to go. He knew that he hadn't lost her; they were just playing a game of cat and…well…flying mouse, figuratively speaking. He sighed low in his throat. He'd make a note to ask Lucius about developing some compact, heat-seeking goggles. Infrared only worked so much.

Catwoman slinked along the alleyways. It was incredibly risky and she hated doing it, because random bums under newspaper or even gang members selling drugs would give her away. Isis trotted behind her, both making the effort to be absolutely quiet. If she was in a busy district of Gotham, she'd be out of luck. She chastised herself for attacking Batman. It was a brainless, stupid, compulsive thing to do. The money wasn't worth it. She just wanted to piss him off. _Why did I need to do that? Now he'll go out of his way to catch me next time. Shit. Why did I have to act like an adolescent?_

_I can't believe I'm wasting my time with this,_ Batman thought to himself. _I've heard of the Cat Burglar before, but never anything quite like this. I doubt anything will pull up in the Gotham City Police Department's database. Who was she? _He wondered if she was a vigilante as she had claimed to be. She had a point; technically, she didn't break in or steal anything. And that strange, calm attitude…trying to get physical. She was probably psycho. They all were. Besides, it was all probably a load of bullshit so she could get away. He licked his lips again, tasting the dried blood. She _did _get away. He cursed himself for letting her theatrics get to him, even if it was only for a moment.

Catwoman flattened herself against the walls of the building, being careful not to disturb any glass bottles or empty crates. She had zigzagged through about a block of alleyways, and somehow she knew he was up there, looking for her. It was a test of stealth and skill. He might be better than her, and he might have the higher ground, but she had plenty of distractions. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, calling Isis silently towards her. The cat trotted up to her and she knelt over.

"I know he's up there somewhere," she whispered silently to herself. She gathered Isis up into her lap and squatted near a large trash bin. "There's only one way to find out." She glanced at Isis. "Ready, baby?"

The cat seemed to know what to do. The different commands that Catwoman gave it dictated which actions the cat would take.

She faced the cat towards the end of the alley, towards the road and a sidewalk. Making another hissing sound, like "Ssssssaaassssssssaaasssssaaa," she lowered the cat onto the ground and Isis shot out of the alleyway, running as fast as it could down the sidewalk.

A black figure sped down the sidewalk, meowing loudly and running swiftly, as if it was being chased by something. Batman leaned over the edge of the building. It was the same cat that had attacked him, and if it was running towards something, no doubt it could be the owner. He leapt towards the second rooftop, spreading his cape out to give him longer air time, and ran after the cat, hopping rooftops and watching it over the side of the building.

A rush of air and sweeping fabric caused Catwoman's eyes to train on the alleyway across the street. She watched the gap above as a dark figure swiftly leapt across the rooftops effortlessly, then was gone in an instant. Batman had taken the bait. He was chasing Isis. She immediately turned the other way and ran down the alleyway, stopping at a back door and picking the lock. The old florist shop didn't have an alarm (who steals flowers?), and Catwoman had used it numerous times before. It was dangerous to use the same spot as a meeting place, especially if Batman had been on her heels merely seconds ago, but if she kept to the alleyways, he'd find her sooner or later. Eventually, Isis would just stop at an alleyway and remain there to play the rest of the night with other cats and eat trash. She was trained not to go home immediately. Catwoman doubted that Batman would actually try to take a cat, but once he realized that Isis was a decoy, he'd retrace his steps. She needed to be long gone before that happened.

Picking up the phone, she quickly dialed the number and waited for an answer.

"Rosa? It's me. I need you to pick me up. Yeah…the usual spot."


	7. The Aftermath

"Bonita, I don't like this," Rosa gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were turning white. "What happened? What did you do now?"

Her tone had a slight hint of accusation in it, and Selina didn't want to get into another argument. She had a nerve-wracking experience when she was face-to-face with Batman. She didn't feel like getting reprimanded by a grouchy, Hispanic mother of five. However, she kept her mouth shut and let Rosa talk. Rosa was right to be upset. It was nearly two in the morning and she had jostled her out of sleep to pick her up in an alleyway. Rosa didn't have a car, so she left her children alone, hailed a cab, took it to Selina's office, picked up the company car keys, and drove the company car over to the alley next to the florist shop. Catwoman was sitting in a nearby alleyway, getting nervous. Batman would have known that Isis was a ploy by then. When Rosa had arrived, she slinked to the car and hopped in quickly, instructing Rosa to drive.

When Rosa saw the duffel bag, she didn't ask questions; instead, she was more concerned for Selina's safety. She only called in the middle of the night like that when there was an emergency.

"What's wrong, chica? Where's your devil cat?"

Selina pulled back her hood and sighed. "I ran into a little problem."

"La policia?"

"No, not the police."

"Then what, chica? I was worried sick, Dios mio." Rosa made the sign of the cross across her chest. "Thank goodness you're not hurt. I thought you could have been mugged, or attacked, or shot, or…"

"Rosa, please! I would have mentioned something like that over the phone."

"You were in such a rush, chica, what was I to think? And now here I am, worried sick about you, I drive your company car all the way over here and you're not being honest with me, _bella_."

Rosa was now using her stern voice. Selina winced. Bella was a nickname she only gave her when she was angry. Selina glanced at her and sighed. Rosa was concentrating on the road ahead of her with her brows furrowed.

"I'm fine, Rosa. Nothing happened to me. You can relax."

"Where is your gato?"

"Isis is all right; she knows the way home. I had to set her loose to set up a diversion."

"Eh? A what?"

Rosa didn't know what diversion meant. Selina bit her lip.

"Someone was chasing me, so I let Isis go so he would follow her instead."

"Chase you? Who would chase you? You said la policia wasn't after you, bonita."

Selina gritted her teeth. _God help me if I give Rosa a heart attack._

"I ran into Batman."

"You _what?!_" Rosa yelled and turned her head towards Selina, staring at her in total surprise and fear.

"Rosa, the road!"

Rosa swallowed and readjusted her grip on the wheel. "Bonita," she said in a shaky voice, "I know he's helping Gotham, but I've heard stories. I've heard he's better than the police. He's like smoke, chica. El demonio. You don't know he's there until…"

"Tell me about it," Selina groaned.

"What happened?" Rosa's voice grew shrill. "Did he hurt you? What did he do to you, chica?"

Selina shrugged. "Actually…no, he didn't. He barely even moved."

Rosa swallowed. "How did you get away?"

Selina stared out the window. The buildings passing them were like a blur. She thought about what had happened on the rooftop…and how she threw Isis at his face. It was a pretty low thing to do, but she was angry and desperate. She felt a sting of guilt as she thought of her cat. For some reason, she even felt bad about kicking him over a ledge. Well…not that bad. She wouldn't have done it if the building was too high, of course. Besides, he was Batman. She probably could have unloaded a bazooka at him and he wouldn't have flinched.

She sighed and snorted out a chuckle. "I have no idea how I got away. Luck, I suppose."

Rosa made another sign of the cross. "Gracias a Dios." There was a long pause before she glanced over and asked, "You think he let you get away?"

Selina glanced over at Rosa. Her voice sounded mischievous even though she still looked angry.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at you, bonita. That leather looks _painted_ on. Maybe you catch his eye, eh?"

Selina grinned to herself. "I doubt it, Rosa. I tried a few tricks on him but he was as unresponsive as a rock."

Rosa sighed. "Even in that getup you can't catch yourself a man."

Selina stared at her. "Oh, don't you start with that. I'm so sorry to disappoint you, Rosa, because I forgot to ask Batman out on a date."

"What's he look like? Is he handsome? Does he have a nice body, or is he all scarred and ugly that he's gotta wear a mask all the time?"

Selina put a hand to her forehead. "This is ridiculous."

"You said you tried tricks on him, bonita, and now I'm curious. I know you can't fit any more tricks up in that costume than what you already got in there."

Selina glared at Rosa, her mouth open with shock. She didn't know whether or not to laugh or to be offended. Instead, she stifled an exasperated groan and it sounded like a choked giggle.

"All right, if you _must_ know, I tried to seduce him a little."

"Ah? And what did he do?"

Selina glanced out the window again. "…Nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"No. In fact, he pushed me away. He seemed to know what I was trying to do."

Rosa sighed. "You're out of practice, chica. You need a boyfriend."

Selina narrowed her eyes at her. Rosa returned a sly grin and kept her eyes on the road.

"Or, maybe the Batman likes men."

Selina smiled, shook her head, tilted it back, and let out a true laugh. Batman, gay? It was stupid, but funny.

"Oh, Rosa, you're too much."

Rosa was trying to lighten the mood a little; she knew that Selina was shaken up by her unexpected encounter with one of the scariest figures in Gotham, and she had escaped by the skin on her teeth. Next time, however…Selina didn't want to think about a next time, but she knew that it was inevitable now. Sooner or later she'd bump into him again. Next time she would be ready.

* * *

Bruce tossed the black bat cowl onto a table and sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair and throwing the cape over his shoulders. The cowl was barely damaged, but there were small pokes and scratches on it.

_Goddamn cat._

It was highly trained, though. He wondered where the woman had picked up a cat like that. After he had chased it several blocks, it had entered an alleyway and jumped on top a few plastic crates. He had watched it from a distance with a pair of infrared binoculars, expecting the mysterious woman to appear alongside it. At first, he thought it was a predetermined meeting spot and she had gone another way, so he waited at least fifteen or twenty minutes. However, when the cat started to dally and dig around in the trash, he began to wonder if he had even followed the right cat. When it started to play with other alley cats, Batman gave up. She had tricked him. _Damn._ It's been awhile before someone had managed to do that to him. Was it because she caught him off guard, and he was flustered to catch her? Or was it because she genuinely managed to give him the slip? Normally he was too sharp for those types of circus stunts.

He had thought about catching the cat, bugging it, and letting it loose, but decided not to. Foremost, he didn't feel like putting an expensive piece of equipment on a wild, trained cat. No doubt it would have scratched or gnawed it off; besides, he felt certain that he would run into this Catwoman again. If the woman was the same person as the cat burglar, then she was moving from the rich areas to more public places. He didn't know if her sprees were going to pick up or slow down, but it had been awhile since the last robbery. It would probably be a long time before he saw her again, especially given their last encounter.

"Master Wayne?"

Bruce turned around to find Alfred gingerly walking along the rocky pathway, carrying cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide. He was in a bathrobe and slippers.

"Alfred, sorry it's late." He took the bottle of peroxide, opened it, and wet the cotton balls. "Thanks for bringing these."

"I take it you had a scuffle with a small alley cat, sir," Alfred examined his cuts with a small, tired grin. "You'd better watch out for them at this time of night; they can be a bit dodgy."

Bruce rolled his eyes and swabbed his cheeks. "Ironically enough, Alfred, it _was_ a cat."

"No offense, Master Wayne, but I'm glad to hear it was a cat and not another serial killer. With that being said, sir, if you're going to go around and get beat up by alley cats, would you finally listen to my requests about getting more sleep?"

Bruce grinned. Alfred was full of dry, witty remarks, even at 2 a.m.

"I can't argue with that."

"Very good, sir. Now…what exactly did you run in to?"

"Remember the cat burglar that kept robbing all the rich homes and businesses in the upper west end of Gotham?"

"I do, sir, and quite glad that he ignored Wayne Manor, but that was, of course, before your return."

Bruce glanced at Alfred. "I think the cat burglar is a 'she.'"

Alfred pursed his lips together and didn't reply.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Bested by a woman, sir?"

"And she took the name 'cat burglar' quite literally, I'll bet," Bruce continued, ignoring Alfred's remark. "She had a cat with her." He pointed to the scratches on his face.

"Ah. Bested by a woman _and_ a cat. Encouraging to know our money is well-spent on your fancy defense."

"I didn't have enough evidence on her to really do much about it. She was running from the scene of the crime but she didn't actually commit the robbery. In court it'd never fly. I let her go."

"Then why the scratches, sir?"

Alfred's tone was playful and he was grinning.

Bruce sighed in exasperation. "I must've made her mad somehow. I don't know. She threw her cat at me."

"Hell hath no fury, sir."

Bruce snorted. "That, or she's a raging lunatic."

"It wouldn't be the first time, Master Wayne."

Bruce looked up at the ceiling of the dark cave thoughfully. "You said the robberies were before my return?"

"Yes, sir. Most of the robberies were, anyway. A few more happened while you were in Gotham, but the cat burglar has long since disappeared."

He was certain that it was her, but he wanted to make sure. If this woman was the cat burglar responsible for the old robberies, then she was moving to newer ground and more robberies would occur within the city. He had never seen her before until this night. It was possible that she was even using the widespread attention Batman was getting to her own advantage. She nearly would have gotten away with a flawless burglary if he hadn't noticed her running across the rooftops. He sighed and chewed the inside of his cheek. He would have to pay closer attention to heists. He hated that she was right – murderers, rapists, and gang-related incidents were higher up on the priority list. It was probably why she had decided to steal within the city…but she didn't appear to have a motive. Yet.

"We're going to have to pull up all the old files and articles on the burglaries," Bruce sighed. "And we're going to have to monitor a few pawn shops and jewelers for the next few days; see if any shady sellers drop by."

"So we're scheduling an outing to the library then, sir?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. We've got to do some research."


	8. Puzzle Pieces

Although it was a Saturday, Selina was taking a cab to her office. She had to deal with a few business matters first before preparing for next week's charity event at the Gotham City zoo.

She had just come out of a dual self-defense class; she was a black belt in Aikido and had a brown belt in Jujitsu. Apart from self-defense and offense, she had practiced gymnastics ever since she was little. She was picking up karate pretty quick and had already earned a purple belt and was considering taking on a fourth class in weapons. However, even though she already knew how to use a whip, an extra weapons class was a stretch. She wasn't planning on using any additional weapons, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Batman had scared her a few nights ago, so she stepped up her efforts in her classes and made sure she knew her katas and formations. No doubt Batman knew martial arts. He was probably an ex-Navy SEAL. She wanted to be prepared.

She was sweaty and unkempt, wearing a grey tank top and some navy blue warm-up pants with her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. As she exited the cab, she slung a small red gym bag over her shoulder and fumbled for her keys, unlocking the front door of Kyle Trading, L.L.C. Instead of taking the elevator, she decided to take the stairs, giving her legs one last workout before resting.

She entered her office and plopped the bag down onto the floor, pushing the speakerphone button and dialing a number she knew by heart. After five rings, someone finally picked up.

"It's seven o'clock on a Saturday morning. This better be good, dawg."

Selina flinched. She had forgotten that he was two whole hours behind Gotham. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear.

"Antoine? It's me."

There was a long pause. "Selina?"

"Antoine, I know it's early. I'm sorry…I forgot."

Antoine let out a muffled sigh and a sniff. She could hear him slowly waking up on the other end, and the sheets ruffled as he moved. He coughed and cleared his deep, gruff voice out of sleep.

"Naw, it's coo. I needed to get up anyway. What's up?"

"I need a favor, Antoine. I need you to check out the quality of a batch of items I'm going to send your way."

"No problem. This for your firm? What kinda old shit you got for me now?"

"No, Antoine…this particular shipment is…personal. Don't put it in the books, and keep it tax exempt. Know what I mean?"

There was another long pause. "Girl, you pull another job?"

Selina didn't answer.

"Shit, Cee. I didn't know you were still doing that."

"I'm waiting until the right moment for a big one."

"I won't ask 'till it's over."

"Will you look at the items?"

"Sure. If they're legit, we get our old deal, straight? Sixty-forty."

Selina shook her head. "Not this time, Antoine. I had to go through a bit of unexpected trouble to grab these."

"Whaddya mean? You ran into the cops?"

"Worse. I ran into Batman."

There was another long pause. Selina had a feeling Antoine was staring at the phone in utter astonishment with his lip curled.

"Oh, _hell _naw! I _know_ you didn't just say Batman."

"I did, Antoine."

Antoine stuttered a bit as he tried to get a sentence out, but it sounded like too much was going through his head to get out of his mouth correctly. "But…did…so…how…girl, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I made it out all right."

"How in the hell did you manage to do that?"

"I let Isis loose on him."

Antoine let out a laugh. "Oh, snap, you put that damn cat of yours up against Batman? _Hell _naw."

"Isis can be worse than a pit bull, Antoine."

Antoine snorted. "I hear that."

Selina grinned. Antoine owned a pit bull and it was the nicest animal on the planet. Selina had picked him up at the animal shelter and given him to Antoine as a gift. Instead of being a mean dog, as Antoine had expected, it was surprisingly a very loving and playful thing. It would probably run up to an intruder in the middle of the night and slobber all over him, rather than rip him to shreds. It was a sore subject with Antoine. He hated Selina's cat. To him, it was a miniature puma with a bad temper.

"So, Antoine? How's seventy-thirty sound?"

Antoine made a sound like, "Psssh. Shit, girl, after going up against Batman, I should _pay_ you."

Selina grinned and didn't reply.

"But yeah, that sounds coo. As soon as I get 'em, I'll take a look at 'em. Can't say how long it'll be."

"They might not be that high of a quality," Selina warned him. "I didn't get these from an upstanding end of Gotham."

"Then what'd you take 'em for?"

"I need the money."

Antoine snorted. "Girl, you don't need shit."

"All right, but the shelter needs money. They're taking on more than they can handle."

Antoine sighed. "Aight, fine, but don't go takin' on more than _you_ can handle, you hear me? Especially since Batman saw you."

Selina nodded. "I know."

"Aight, girl, I'll look at your stuff. Gimme a week or two."

"Okay. Thanks, Antoine. I'll ship it out to you today before the post office closes. Keep an eye out."

* * *

Bruce sighed and scrolled through the old police records of anything cat burglar-related. He had also rented a few microfilm rolls from the library after doing some research with Alfred, but there wasn't anything that caught his eye that Alfred hadn't seen already. Although Bruce was out of Gotham during most of the initial heists, Alfred had a good memory of how they usually went down – at least from what he'd seen through the media.

The cat burglar used to have a pattern – he'd only steal from the rich, and the chain of robberies would never go all the way into the main city of Gotham. Like New York had the Hamptons, Gotham had its elite group of suburban housing owned by millionaires, including Bruce. However, when the cat burglar struck, it was sporadic. There were no clues left behind – no fingerprints, no DNA, no hair. What had frustrated the police even more was that sometimes a theft wouldn't even be reported until weeks or even months later. The houses were so big and the rooms were so extravagant that the owners didn't even notice an item was missing until they'd happen to check one day. More often than not, maids and butlers would notice first before the actual homeowner did. It gave the cat burglar plenty of leeway and it was probably why he kept doing it. The rich people didn't even know they were a target until it was too late.

"Were we ever robbed when I was gone?" Bruce asked Alfred.

"No, sir. I took it upon myself to check every inch of this place when I heard there was a cat burglar loose. It wasn't hard since I take to dusting every day."

Bruce checked a list of the reported robberies. He mulled over the names and sighed.

"I haven't heard of half of these people."

"You're spending too much time as Batman and not as Bruce Wayne, sir. On top of that, I didn't exactly think you'd want to have a neighborhood barbecue upon your return."

Bruce grinned. "You thought right." He glanced at the list again. A few names he recognized.

"What do I do…?" he murmured to himself.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"What do I do? What does Bruce Wayne do…?"

Alfred remained silent, allowing him to think.

"I run my father's hospital…I donate to charities across the globe…I'm a humanitarian…"

"An underestimation, Master Wayne."

Bruce stared hard at the list. "But this guy…I've seen him around before…he's into taxidermy. He collects rare stuffed animals. Big hunter. He's invited me to Africa a few times."

"I believe he's also an investor, sir."

"An investor of what?"

"Last time I heard any news of him, he was into large corporations supporting land development…subdivisions…mini-malls…that type of thing, sir."

"And her…" Bruce pointed at a woman's name. "Inherited everything from her parents, who owned some computer company. Also a big investor. But I heard rumors through the police that she also channeled money towards Falcone's operations. They could never prove anything, obviously."

"Why fund a gangster?"

"He must've had connections to things she wanted. Power. Politics. Who knows. Falcone used to own everything in Gotham. This one…" Bruce pointed to another name. "Also speculation, but he probably hand-picked Judges to sit in the Gotham City courthouses. He has the money to do it. The rest…I'm not sure. Plain, rich, law-abiding citizens. What's the connection?"

"Have they donated to charity, sir?"

Bruce frowned. "I don't know, but I guess I could find out. Even if they did, how would the cat burglar manage to find out that information? People can remain anonymous when they donate."

"If you had all that money, sir, would you want your name to be anonymous, or would you want to be recognized for it?"

_Good point._

"So, this cat burglar…he fancies himself as a modern day Robin Hood, does he?" Alfred asked.

"Not quite…we still don't know where all that money's going. We don't know if she's keeping it or if she's giving it away. Nevertheless, I really do think that the cat burglar is Catwoman," Bruce replied. "There's still not enough evidence to support anything, but it's just too coincidental."

"Are you certain, sir? After all, you caught her stealing jewels from the inner city…quite a drastic change from her usual area."

"I think that was more by chance than it was on purpose. Technically, she didn't steal them." He bit his lip and shook his head. He was repeating what she had said to him that night. In a way, she was right. Criminals were never right. He only saw her once and she was already agitating the crap out of him.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Well, sir, in addition to this information, nothing has shown up in any pawn shops or computer records."

Bruce shook his head. "It's only been a week…but you know what? Let's give up on the pawn shops. Almost everything she stole was some sort of priceless artifact or ancient relic. I doubt she'd try to sell something like that in a pawn shop, where they probably only carry five-hundred dollars in the cash register each night. No. I'll bet she's got a middle man."

After a long pause, Alfred sighed and took a few steps back. "So, Master Wayne, after hours upon hours of poring over burglary records, this cat vixen still hasn't given us any leads, has she?"

Bruce sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "Nope. Well…not yet."

Alfred grinned and nodded. "I suppose I'll go make you a sandwich, then, sir. Hungry?"

Bruce smiled at him. "Always."


	9. Batman's Shadow

It was late, but for Catwoman, the night was young. She looked up into the air and sniffed. It was full of promise; not a raincloud was in the sky, there wasn't much of a chilly breeze, and the moon – combined with the sickly, yellow haze of the Gotham smog reflecting off of streetlights – gave her enough light to prance off of rooftops without a hitch. It was a perfect night for thieving, but her last encounter with Batman made her wary. No doubt he'd be keeping an eye out for her, so she had to lay low for awhile and keep the thefts to a minimum. Instead, she decided to scope out the museum one last time and get her measurements and timing correct. If she was going to pull off the heist of the century – stealing the Emerald Eye from Wayne's new museum – she had to get it just right. One screw-up and she'd be caught. She had to be extra careful that Batman wasn't onto her, so she'd slink across the rooftops more slowly and more vigilant. The last thing she wanted to do was attract attention, which was tricky. If she stayed low, no doubt he was higher up and could probably detect movement easily if he was anywhere in the area. If she went higher, he'd be able to spot her from even farther away. The alleyways, which she usually avoided, were now key. She'd rather put up with a belligerent drunk or two than face Batman. At least for now. It had only been five days, and no doubt he was still pissed off she threw a raging cat on him.

She would use more fire escapes and if she was on a rooftop, she'd use the chimneys and high walls of the sides for cover. She was thankful for her black costume; she blended in with most of the night. But she knew that _he_ was out there, doing the exact same thing. It gave her shivers.

She finally reached the museum, which took longer to get to than normal. Her detour through alleys instead of rooftops had cost her time, but she didn't really care. If she had to practice the alley route to evade Batman, then by all means, she'd do it every chance she got.

Catwoman slunk down into her usual spot; the corner of a rooftop that was across the street from the back end of the museum. All she had to do was peek over the lip of the building to examine the side of the museum and the alley near the back door, which was the main entrance for all workers that worked the graveyard shift – janitors and security guards.

She didn't need blueprints; if it was Wayne's, she figured it'd be high tech. Ventilation shafts were out of the question since she would make too much noise and alert the authorities, but slipping in through the back door was going to take some major _cojones_. Rosa would've said she was _loco_.

_What Rosa doesn't know won't hurt her,_ Catwoman thought with a smile. The poor woman worried too much already.

She pulled out a tiny pocket watch that was tied around her whip and examined the time.

"Cue the smoke break," she whispered with a smile.

Within the next two minutes, a security guard stepped out from the back entrance, used a foot to wedge a brick in between the door and the frame to leave it cracked, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. It was usually a long break; he'd be standing out there for a good five or ten minutes to catch a breath of fresh nicotine, revitalizing his night-shifting spirits and heading back in to monitor the boring, black-and-white screens for another six hours.

The night shift was twelve straight hours, from six to six. Catwoman had once stayed up all night long to analyze their schedule. Every Sunday night there were deliveries from 5 p.m. to 9 p.m., and all the museum workers would spend all night reorganizing the floor exhibits or adding on extra artwork. Sunday night was out. Every Tuesday there were security inspections at 8 p.m. on the nose, right after closing time, and they'd refresh the computer system, test every single movement trigger, make sure the glass casings weren't cracked or faulty, and test everything over a second time. Wayne didn't spare any expense. Tuesday nights were out. Friday and Saturday nights were busier than any other night for museum spectators, and they remained open until 10 p.m. The janitors would then take over and practically work the entire night, tidying up for Sunday. Janitors didn't have much of a routine, and even if they did, some were slower than others. The weekends were out. She automatically left Monday out because it was the beginning of a new work week – security guards would be fresh from the weekend and nice and alert; more than any other night. Her only two options left were either Wednesday or Thursday night. She had finally decided to pick Wednesday – it was in the middle of the week, not a whole lot of exciting things occurred on Wednesdays, and nobody did much at night. Thursdays were busier since the college kids of Gotham would go out to the bars – Thirsty Thursday and all – and she didn't want to risk a thing when it came to this heist.

So, it was midnight on a Wednesday night (or officially Thursday morning), and she had studied the security guards' patterns for the past month and a half. During the day, she'd visit the museum once a week or so to make sure she got the inside layout memorized. The Emerald Eye was still located on the third floor. Even though it was the most guarded piece of artwork in the room, she had a plan.

The security guard outside stomped out his cigarette butt and went back inside, leaving the brick right next to the door. Catwoman glanced at her watch. He had taken eight minutes, which was usually the average.

"Cue flashlight man…"

A second security guard started doing a slow sweep across the first floor, examining each piece of artwork and making sure everything was in place. Because the first floor had windows, it was easy to see him. She knew it wasn't cigarette man because this guy was significantly taller. She also knew that there were at least two security guards in the control room monitoring the television sets from going on a small museum tour. She also had a plan for that. She knew there were only four security guards, because they were the only four men that showed up, along with the janitors, and the only four to leave at 6 a.m. The more she went over the plan in her head, the more flawless it became. Stealing the Emerald Eye was going to be a cinch.

High in the sky, a bright, circular flash suddenly caught her eye. It was a spotlight – with his insignia.

_Oh man_, she breathed. She'd only seen it once before from her bedroom window, and had rolled the eyes at the thought on how much her tax money probably went towards constructing that thing. But now, just looking at it gave her goosebumps and a fluttery feeling in her stomach. Because that symbol meant that he was needed, something had happened, and no doubt he was moving in the darkness. Responding to the Commissioner's call for help. He was out there, somewhere. For some reason, the thought made her feel vulnerable. Batman moving around silently in the night was somewhat reminiscent of the boogeyman. Catwoman gulped as she thought of their encounter last week. He wasn't there until he was _there_. There was something disturbingly scary about the whole thing.

And sexy. That a man – a human being of flesh and blood – could do that was beyond imagination. His costume was pretty hot. She wondered what his body looked like underneath.

Immediately purging the thought from her head, she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head vigorously, putting a palm to her forehead.

_Rosa's starting to influence those bad thoughts on me._

She glanced at the museum and then back up at the spotlight. She couldn't help but feel somewhat mischievous, let alone curious. She was suddenly interested about what exactly went on between Batman and the Commissioner. No doubt they'd discuss crime. She wondered what sort of stuff Batman dealt with that the police couldn't. Before she knew it, she was sprinting across rooftops towards the source of the spotlight. Half of her brain was screaming at her to run the opposite way, as fast as possible, but the other half was crying out in joy from the adrenaline rush and the great feeling of the soft breeze against her pale face this late at night. No boundaries. No rules. Just the night and the rooftops.

She slowed to a halt and kneeled low, peering over the concrete wall of one rooftop. She was still four or five blocks away from the spotlight, but she already knew that Batman had beaten her. She couldn't sneak up on them without being caught. Discretion was the better part of reckless valor here. Taking on Batman nearly gave her a heart attack last time. She'd never risk a scrap with the Commissioner, either. He was a good man, but he was still a cop. Sneaking up on Batman and his good buddy Gordon was too much. Instead, she kneeled down and spread one leg out, keeping her balance with both hands on the ground; a habit picked up from gymnastics and stretching. She waited, keeping only her head up, watching for his shadow. She was petrified and excited at the same time, wondering where he was going to go.

With a soft whoosh of air, a black figure appeared in view and jumped off the high building, his cape flapping vertically behind him as he fell. Just as a parachute pops out and catches a gust of air underneath, the same sound applied as his cape suddenly went rigid and he soared back up, gliding across the lower Gotham rooftops as if he was an eagle searching for his prey. He was heading towards the harbor. She followed quickly, jumping across the rooftops and launching herself onto fire escapes, climbing up, shimmying across laundry lines, and jumping across more rooftops.

She was out of breath and every joint and muscle ached from the sprint, but there was simply no keeping up with him. She had to allow herself to hang back just a bit anyway, because if she somehow managed to keep him in her sights, he would have no doubt heard her coming. She was atop a building overlooking the wide harbor, but he could have gone anywhere from this point. In front of her was a large cargo ship, docked near a giant warehouse. There were warehouses that ran up and down the waterway, however, and she suddenly felt stupid for following him. How could she possibly spot Batman? He was Ninja Vanish on wings. Hiding from him was one thing. Trying to find him was sheer lunacy. She sighed and crossed her arms, standing upright and watching the ripples of the water shimmer with moonlight. Her eyes darted to the warehouse and something caught her eye. She narrowed her eyes, squinting and leaning forward to get a better look. The glass skylight to the warehouse ceiling was wide open.

_Could he…? No. Nahh…_

Catwoman bit her lip.

_But it's possible…aw, hell._

She shimmied over to the neighboring building until she was directly across from the warehouse. The warehouse was too far, so she couldn't jump the gap. There were no fire escapes, so she couldn't use her whip. She'd have to climb down the building, physically cross the street, and somehow get back up there so she could look in. She suddenly felt incredibly envious of Batman's ability to actually fly.

_Show off._

She had managed to follow him this far, however, and her adrenaline and bravery spiked again. She had no idea where she was getting all this confidence, but she liked it. There weren't any patrols on the harbor and the street was empty, so she decided to go for it and run across the street. There was a tiny staircase that led halfway up the warehouse and stopped at a door – possibly overhangs and catwalks – Catwoman smiled at the word – and decided she'd take that route.

Once she climbed down the building, she ran as fast as she could across the street after looking several times to make sure it was safe. She had to hurry; the streetlights were bright and the harbor was usually well-lit to deter any gang-bangers or drug dealers from doing business at this time of night.

_Ironic_, she thought.

The staircase zigzagging up the side of the warehouse was creaky and made out of rusted metal, so she nimbly and gingerly climbed up, taking two steps at a time, padding her feet lightly and silently while trying to be fast.

_Thank God for all those workouts, because the human body is not meant to crouch over and sneak around like this._

She felt more like a quiet monkey than like a cat, but once she climbed the last bit up on all fours, she silently brought out her claws in case something unexpected were to happen from the other side of the door. The door had no window, so she was taking an incredible risk. She pressed the side of her head against the crack. There was only the soft whir of air on the other side, coupled with the hushed murmur of men talking. There didn't seem to be anyone directly on the other side. Catwoman tried the knob gently. It was locked.

With a pinkie finger, which had the smallest and thinnest claw, she softly dug into the keyhole until she heard a distinct _click_ and slowly turned the knob. The door cracked open.

Catwoman slid through the opening silently, remaining as low as she could go, and closed the door quietly. The catwalks were dark and the only places that were illuminated were by large bulbs that were dangling from the ceiling past the catwalks. She slinked along the catwalk until she was in the corner, obscured by the utmost darkness, and leaned over to try to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, the catwalks were too high and the two men's voices were too low, so she couldn't make out the conversation. What they were saying didn't matter, however, as her eyes trained on their guns. Each of the two men, who appeared to be ordinary dock workers, was carrying machine guns. Catwoman gritted her teeth. Unless they were under cover Feds guarding an important shipment, they were up to something highly illegal. Her eyes darted across the catwalks. Batman had to be in here somewhere. She couldn't have possibly picked the wrong warehouse. As far as she could see, he wasn't up in the rafters. Crates and boxes lined the walls and formed parallel piles on the sides of the warehouse, causing shadows to pop up every which way. Her stomach did a flip as she realized he was probably down there, waiting for an opportune moment. Yeesh, it was creepy. She was attracted to it at the same time.

Two more thugs appeared from behind a string of crates. They also had machine guns. There were four of them, congregating in the middle of the warehouse, under the light.

Three more thugs came out from the other side, turning off their flashlights and speaking in low voices. One guy had a pistol tucked in his pants, another had a shoulder harness, and the third had a machine gun.

_I am in way over my head._

She realized that this is why Batman came and not the cops. The police can only do so much, but they can't do anything without a warrant. Her guess was that they had their suspicions, but they couldn't get enough on this drug ring or smuggling ring or whoever it was – so Gordon sent Batman over to snoop instead. Technically, the cops were still getting the job done without getting their hands dirty. Batman didn't give a shit about what rhetoric the lawyers threw at him. As long as criminals were breaking the law and scheming to hurt people, he'd figure out how to put them in jail. Catwoman smiled. She was beginning to like the Commissioner more and more, and maybe Batman wasn't such a stiff as she had originally thought him to be.

Suddenly, the lights went out as the sound of breaking glass echoed throughout the warehouse, and the thugs yelled out in surprise. The flashlights immediately turned on, and seven bobbing white spheres spread out and disappeared behind the crates to try to find the intruder. Catwoman's heart pounded and she realized that although it was now pitch black, she was vulnerable. The flashlights were being pointed at random spots and one thug had started to climb a far ladder in order to check the catwalks. She slid sideways a few steps and was trying to think of something, but someone yelled out,

"What the hell are you going up there for, you fuckin' dumbass? Nobody could have smashed the lights from up _there_. Keep searching behind the crates!"

Catwoman let out a sigh of relief. The yells and patter of shoes on concrete were interrupted by a loud scream and gunfire, startling her and causing her to automatically duck.

"What was that?"

"It's _him!_ Shoot him!"

"Where the fuck is he?"

As her eyes began to adjust, she saw that the thugs were getting lost in the maze of crates and were trying to follow each other's voice, but the yells and echoes only created more confusion and panic. Catwoman looked around. She was still vulnerable up here. It was only a matter of time before someone shot off a live round and it would hit her. She needed to get lower; behind a crate.

The crates were stacked high enough so she could slip off the catwalk and softly land on the box below. It wobbled a bit, but she regained her balance and looked for the next crate to lower herself onto. She was still high up and unprotected.

A loud slamming noise, a grunt, and the sound of fabric sweeping the air echoed in the warehouse and someone else was shooting frantically. Catwoman slipped down into the next crate and focused on what was happening below. Her heart thumped loudly and she kept her breathing low, but the gunfire was deafening and it was making her nervous. Thugs were running back and forth, shining the flashlights high above and over the crates. She had to duck once or twice to avoid being seen, but her back was facing the wall and she crouched low, remaining hidden. It sounded as if Batman had found two of the thugs. Five more to go.

She slipped down off the crate onto the third one. Any lower and she would have been eye-level. She kept her crouch and started to walk along the line of crates, which were two rows away from the center of the warehouse. A thug with a flashlight was walking between the walls of crates below and she stopped moving, lying face-down and flattening herself against the crate tops so he wouldn't notice her. The light bounced past her and he continued on in a panic, pointing his gun frantically in the darkness. She decided to use the light he had and followed him silently, keeping just out of his peripheral vision and ducking whenever he would backtrack to look behind him. The crates stopped, creating a gap, and she didn't feel like jumping it. Instead, she headed towards the center and nimbly strode over to the next parallel crate stack and quickly hid behind a high stack of crates, leading up towards another section of catwalk.

She had no idea what the hell she was even doing there. She had her chance to get out, but now she was caught in the midst of gunfire and Batman. Her throat had gone dry and she was struggling to keep her frantic breathing to a soft minimum. She had made a gigantic mistake in coming here.

_Get a grip,_ she told herself. _You're Catwoman._

She peeked around the crate and saw that the five remaining thugs were standing in a huddle with their backs together, guns and flashlights pointed at the dark void. She could see much better in the dark now; her vision had fully adjusted.

Gunshot rippled through the air and pieces of wooden crate splintered around her as she ducked back down.

"What was that? Did you see that?"

"No!"

"I think he's over there!"

Gunfire exploded again, but this time they were aiming at nothing. Batman had attacked them head-on and he was too fast, knocking them over, kicking at one, blocking a strike at another, flipping sideways to avoid gunshot, smacking a flashlight away, head-butting one thug, throwing another thug at a third, and punching a fourth, knocking him out.

Catwoman climbed up on a crate and crouched low. The dropped flashlights lit up the room with a dim, bluish-white light, and she watched in awe as he dispatched one criminal after another. Two were knocked unconscious. The two that had fallen over each other were stumbling back up, searching for their guns. Batman picked up the third by his collar and tossed him aside, making him skid towards Catwoman's direction.

The thug groaned out in pain and rose to his knees, pulling out the pistol that was wedged behind his back, tucked in his pants.

She hardly knew him, he wasn't exactly a friend; Batman was probably going to arrest her someday, but she could never stand by and watch him get shot. It was like slow motion. Catwoman watched in horror as Batman had no idea he was about to be shot in the back while he dealt with the last two thugs. He had used some sort of lasso to yank the machine guns out of their hands, catch them again around their waists, and tighten the rope, jerking them towards him. The thug aimed the semiautomatic pistol and was about to squeeze the trigger.

The slow motion immediately became instantaneous. Without a second thought, Catwoman tore the whip from her waist and hurled it towards the crook, aiming for his wrist. It caught and wrapped around his arm with a loud crack, and she pulled as hard as she could, yanking his arm away and shifting his aim. The gun went off and struck a nearby crate as the thief yelled out loud in pain and dropped it.

Batman whipped around.

Catwoman angrily jumped down and cracked the whip a second time, as if she were an incredibly pissed off lion tamer. The thug backed up and held out his hands towards her. One palm was bloody from her first strike.

"What the fuck?" he stammered. "Look…d-d-don't hurt me, okay? Just don't hurt me!"

She curled her lip, snapped the whip again, and he jumped back.

"It's not polite to take cheap shots," she growled. "I should know."

The thug turned to run, but Catwoman flipped the whip at him. It circled around his neck and she jerked it back, causing his feet to fly out from under him and land flat on his back, smacking his head against the concrete. He groaned and coughed for a bit, then remained silent.

She unraveled the whip and tied it around her waist, turning around to look at Batman. His face was blank, but she thought she could see a slight glint of surprise in his eyes. His entire body was shrouded in his cloak. He had kicked out the guns within the thugs' grasp, and while she was dealing with the last one, he managed to tie the rest up flawlessly. Catwoman raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you doing here?" he grunted quietly at her.

She shrugged nonchalantly.

His gaze darted to the thug behind her. "You could have killed him."

She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't. And you're welcome."

"I don't need your help."

"I wasn't going to offer it."

"Then why did you?"

"As much as you scare the shit out of me, Bats, I couldn't very well let you get shot while your back was turned, could I?"

Batman suppressed a grin. At least she was honest. If she really was scared shitless of him, she didn't show it at all.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"I followed you."

He stared at her. _Great. An S&M cat junkie dressed from head to toe in leather is following me on my routes. Good to know._

She must've noticed the hint of annoyance on his face because she laughed. It was low and throaty. Sexy.

"Oh, c'mon, Bats. I got bored and saw the call of the wild up there," she pointed to the sky, "so curiosity got the better of me." _Fuck. _She closed her eyes and screwed up her face. _A woman in a cat suit can't say that shit…_

Batman remained silent.

She opened her eyes slowly and watched him. He wasn't going to say it. She let out a sigh of relief and grinned.

"Thanks for sparing me the pun."

Batman slightly smirked.

"So, what are we going to do now?" she grinned.

"_We_ are not going to do anything," Batman's face turned stony. "_You_ are going to go back where you came from. The police will be here shortly, and you don't belong here."

Catwoman ignored him. "What was this cartel up to, Bats?"

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Catwoman put a hand up to her fake ear. "I keep hearing an echo."

The faint scream of sirens was picking up within the city, and no doubt they were headed towards the warehouse. Catwoman wondered how he managed to get the police to come out there without actually _saying_ anything.

Batman moved under his cape and revealed a small grappling hook.

"You had better leave before the police find you here," he said flatly. With that, he shot the rope up towards the skylight and flew upward, disappearing from sight.

Catwoman watched after him with surprise. _No cuffs? No threat of arrest? This is turning out to be one hell of a night. _Her gaze swept across the floor to the battered thugs and noticed a crate had been damaged from the gunshots.

_Waste not, want not…_

She glanced up again. He wasn't there. Shrugging, she tiptoed over towards the crate and pried the top open. It peeled up with a creak, revealing yellow straw. The dim glow of the flashlights provided some light, but she had to squint in order to see better. She dug through the straw until her knuckles brushed upon something hard. She gripped the item and pulled it out, plucking off bits of straw and blowing the dust off. It was a white, clay figurine of a greek mythological statue. The naked goddess peered back at her with empty eyes and held a string of white petals across her shoulder.

She took a step backwards and bumped into a wall. Except it wasn't a wall.

"What are you doing?" the gruff voice murmured.

Startled, Catwoman's heart nearly leapt out of her chest and she dropped the statue, which shattered on the ground. She whipped around and instinctively tried to backhand whoever was behind her. Batman blocked the strike as if he were swatting a fly away, and she let out a breath of relief mixed with panic.

"Jesus."

"I can't leave you alone for two seconds, can I?"

Catwoman narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "Give me a break, will ya? I was just _looking_."

Batman took a step forward and she took a step back.

"You were going to steal that."

She gritted her teeth angrily. "I was _not!_ What makes you so goddamn bent on - "

There was a gritty crunch under her foot as she took a step back to point a finger at his chest, and they both looked down.

The clay statue had broken into dust and smaller pieces, but it had revealed something hidden inside its hollow shell. Dozens of large diamonds sparkled on the concrete as she moved her foot out of the way. Each of them must have been at least a karat or larger.

Catwoman let out a low whistle. "So _that's_ what they were smuggling."

The sirens in the distance were growing louder.

"I am going to tell you, for the final time," Batman growled and grabbed her wrist, "get out of here before I personally hand you over to the police."

"Fine," she hissed back and wrenched her fist loose, "but perhaps next time you should watch your ass, since I had to cover it for you."

Batman clenched his jaw and was about to argue back, but it was hopeless. She was getting him riled up for no reason.

"Don't think I'm leaving without a memento," she added suddenly.

Before he could react, her fist shot out and punched him across the face. He stumbled back; she used his backwards momentum and kicked him square in the chest, knocking him over. Catwoman immediately sprung up on the crates and started to climb the stack, heading towards the catwalk. Batman had immediately recovered and pulled out a thin cable with a weight dangling at the end. He threw it towards her as she was climbing higher and higher; the cable caught her ankle and wrapped around it, tangling into a knot. Batman yanked it.

She was nearly to the topmost crate when she felt something knock against her ankle. Before she had realized what it was, the force of his pull caused her to lose balance as one leg was tugged out from her body. She landed hard on the edge of one crate on her stomach, scraping a knee and banging an elbow, and then he pulled her more, dragging her down another crate. The corner of the crate jutted straight into her thigh as she was twisted around and landed unnaturally, and she let out a cry of pain. She gripped the sides of the crate frantically and purposely shoved her wrists up against the wooden panels, pushing the buttons and causing the claws to come out.

Digging one claw into the wood for support, she looked over her shoulder and glared at Batman angrily, yanked her knee up to bring her ankle towards her, and slashed at the cable with the other claw. The rope snapped and she hurriedly climbed back up the crates. She reached the catwalk and hurled herself over onto the metal, rolling onto her stomach and looking down at Batman. He had pulled out what looked like a small flare gun, but she knew better. He was going to follow her.

Leaning over the catwalk, she punched down onto the top crate, splintering the wood. She quickly punched hard a second time and drove her fist into the straw, feeling around for a statue. Her claws scraped against something hard; she wrapped her fingers around it and brought it up through the broken box. The exact replica of the white, clay, greek goddess was staring up at her.

_Good enough._

A loud pop echoed in the warehouse and Catwoman was already on her feet, sprinting towards the service entrance. Batman was trying to match her; he was already on the catwalks. The sirens were getting much louder.

Before she could reach the door, he was there. He had beaten her to it, and now he was blocking her only way out.

_Shit_.

She backed up and slid the statue behind her back, tucking it between her whip and making sure it was fastened. Keeping her hands behind her, she hid her claws from view.

"Now, Bats," she breathed, "I like you. Come on. Back off. I just stopped a bullet for you."

"You've tampered with the evidence and now you're stealing it," he replied gruffly.

"You could at _least_ be grateful," she curled a lip angrily and kicked at him, purposely pointing her heel at his knee and slamming it down at an angle forcefully. He grunted and his knee buckled slightly and she followed up with a knee to his face as he bent over. He blocked her strike with his palm and shoved her leg away, attempting a punch. She blocked it with her forearm, flinched from the impact, and kicked at his groin. He jumped backwards and attempted to grab at her leg, but she swiped a claw towards his arm and sliced the material. The sharp blades had dug deep enough to cut his upper arm and he groaned out loud. He countered with another attempt to punch her; he wasn't really looking to hit her, but he would anticipate her dodges so she'd make a move he could find useful and catch her. She dodged like he thought she would, stepping sideways away from the punch, close enough for him to grab her, but his attempt to capture her only resulted in another scratch to the forearm. Batman grew angrier and took a step towards her, but she stepped back and held a claw up, ready to swipe at his face.

Their eyes met and she hesitated.

She punched. He blocked. He countered. She blocked. It was textbook martial arts, but they both knew who was quicker. Batman could have beaten her. She held back on him. He saw it for only a split second, but he knew that she didn't want to hurt him…and he didn't want to use excessive force on her. But she had to be brought down. She had to be arrested. The charade had to end.

She crossed the line, however, when she stepped into him, swiftly brought a claw at his side, near his ribcage, and sliced…hard. It was enough to cut through the suit and draw blood.

He winced and slammed the back of his fist into her shoulder blade in retaliation. The sharp, curved spikes on his wristbands cut into her flesh and she cried out loud. He immediately retracted his fist, regretting his anger.

Stumbling back, Catwoman angrily snatched her whip from her waist, grabbing the statue from behind, and cracked it towards him. Batman took a step back and she cracked it again near his head. He dodged to avoid the attack, but the catwalk was already wobbly from their fighting and he took one misstep. One foot slid off of the side and he stumbled.

"Catch," she called out to him and tossed the statue his way. He caught it with one hand, still trying to regain his footing, and she quickly trotted forward and kicked him, snatching the statue back out of his grasp. Batman tumbled off the catwalk onto the crates below, smashing one and rolling off of another.

Catwoman swiftly turned around, kicked open the door, and didn't even bother descending the stairs; she leapt off of them and broke her fall by buckling her knees and rolling. The pavement was hard and rocky, however, and she groaned loudly as she felt the random bits of gravel and broken glass bury into her skin and bruise her bones. The strobe-light colors of red, white, and blue were bouncing off of the nearby buildings and foggy atmosphere as the sirens were nearly on top of her.

_No time to stop. Don't stop._

She knew Batman was right behind her. As long as he wasn't directly in front of her, she didn't care. She began sprinting across the street as fast as she could, ignoring the shooting pain in her thigh and the burning sensation in her stomach. The surges of adrenaline gave her power and speed, and she would use it up until she couldn't move. The minute she was across the street, she headed directly into a dark alleyway. She was barely out of the open when a Gotham City Police Department patrol car was the first to arrive on the scene, sirens blaring.

Batman had made it to the creaky staircase at the side of the warehouse and stood outside the doorway, just catching a glimpse of Catwoman running into the dark alley across the street. He was about to jump down and follow her when the police car arrived. It was too close to the warehouse, and he didn't want to expose himself. Instead, he turned back inside the warehouse and shot his grappling hook up towards the skylight. He'd have higher ground that way, and perhaps he could still catch up to her. He'd speak with Gordon about the diamonds later.

Catwoman ran as fast as she could through the narrow labyrinth of alleyways, dodging trash cans, old bicycles, parked cars, and climbing up over chain-linked fences. If she remained mobile for long, no doubt he'd find her. He knew she had taken the alleyways. She didn't dare take to the rooftops. There was only one thing left to do – it was low and it was cowardly, but she'd come too far to be caught. She'd hide.

After sprinting six or seven blocks like mad, Catwoman started to change up her route. Instead of heading straight, she took a ninety-degree turn and headed in another direction. Running never bothered her; she could go at least three or four miles at a time without stopping, but eventually she'd have to take cover. Batman was probably airborne, and he could cover a hell of a lot more ground that way. Besides, the fatigue and the ache had started to catch up to her. She was suddenly aware of the hot blood that was seeping down her backside. The throbbing and searing pain reared its ugly head when she slowed to a jog, and she had started to breathe harder. Everything hurt. She was suddenly sore. Her knees and elbows throbbed from her fall on the crates, her stomach hurt, her quadriceps felt like a knife had been shoved through them, and her lungs were on fire. She didn't even want to think about the slice across her shoulder blade. Thank goodness all the other pains were focusing her attentions away from it…but she was starting to feel dizzy.

Looking around, she unwillingly settled for a large heap of trash bags. She lifted up a sack, sat down in the pile, and placed the sack in her lap, curling up and blending right in. If she just sat right down in the alley without any cover, she was sure Batman would spot her. She had a feeling he had more under that cape than a grappling hook. The guy was Inspector Gadget.

A soft mew caught her attention and she looked over to find a dark-colored calico staring up at her with large, green eyes. She held out a knuckle and the cat took it willingly, softly purring.

"Looks like it's just you and me tonight, sweetheart," she murmured. The image of the calico was getting blurry. "Two cats out on the prowl."

The calico meowed.


	10. Stirring Things Up

Something wet and rough against her cheek pulled Selina out of an uneasy, painful sleep. Her head was throbbing. Her lips were cracked and dry. She felt drained. She didn't even know she fell asleep. How long had she been out?

A soft meow brought her fully back to consciousness, and her eyes fluttered open. The calico had been licking her cheek.

She sat up and groaned loudly in pain, rolling the garbage bag off of her. The calico backed up a few steps and sat on its haunches, licking at its paw.

"Ohh…" she moaned and struggled to sit up. Her legs were stiff and screaming with pain. Her back was cramped and her shoulder throbbed. Her elbow had been scraped and it hurt to move her arm. She put a hand to her forehead and blinked, trying to think back on what had happened.

She fought Batman.

"Shit…" she whispered out in pain and scooted forward, attempting to stand. Her vision nearly flipped upside-down and she put a hand out towards a brick wall, steadying herself. She was still dizzy. She reached a hand over to the back of her shoulder, winced in pain, and looked at her glove. The wound was still fresh; it hadn't yet fully clotted. How much blood had she lost?

"That _asshole_," she gritted her teeth. She had tried to help him, and for what? He put a gash in her shoulder. Sure, she punched him first…but that was because he pissed her off. She wasn't going to steal. She had no intention going into that warehouse and coming out any richer. She just wanted to watch him work. She nearly got shot for it. She put herself in harm's way to protect him. And in return, he treated her like a nuisance…again. He didn't thank her. He didn't even acknowledge the fact that she helped him. Instead, he shunned her and accused her of trying to steal.

Well, she wouldn't have stolen if he hadn't said anything to her. But if that's how he wanted it, fine. She'd steal.

The punch was an angry parting gift. Stealing the diamonds was a last-minute decision.

_The diamonds._

She reached over down in the trash pile and pulled out the statue. Miraculously, she had managed to run like hell and hide away without breaking it. She looked around and was suddenly aware she was possibly carrying close to a quarter million dollars in a dark alley. It was time to go home. She blinked up at the sky. It was still relatively dark, but the air was damp and it had that certain smell only early mornings had. She had to hurry back. She must have passed out for at least an hour, and if she was caught with the sun up, things would get dangerous...fast.

Feeling every bruise and scrape on her body as she moved, Catwoman attempted to stand a second time and succeeded. The pain was unimaginable. It felt as if she was attacked by a meat tenderizer and had a hangover.

_Fucking Batman._

The bitterness rose in her throat as she resented him more and more. What kind of self-righteous vigilante did he think he was? He attacked a woman and drew blood. She wouldn't forgive him for that. Her surge of triumph, however, blanketed the anger. She had gotten away with some diamonds. She at least beat him on that front.

_I just made him right about me, _she argued with herself. _This time, he actually saw me committing a crime. There's no going back now._

She took a deep breath, shook the grogginess away, and started to jog towards the direction of her apartment. _Who cares,_ she thought angrily. _I'm a theif. I've always been a thief. Catch me if you can, Bats. It's on._

By the time she reached her condo, she thought her insides would erupt from the painful jog. She leaned against the brick wall and breathed hard, looking at the fire escape with dread. It took the rest of the energy she had to get to the utmost top, without grace or stealth. She had clamored up the steps and tripped several times, but the brick walls were heavily insulated and nobody was awake at this hour. Luckily, she didn't attract any attention. Upon reaching the top, she rolled over the lip of the building and landed on her side. Blinking, she numbly stumbled up and headed towards the elevator, which brought her to her floor.

...

At 3:56 a.m., Rosa's phone rang. She awoke with a start, blinked at the digital clock, and was immediately and fully awake. She knew it was Selina.

"Hola?" she whispered in Spanish, just in case.

"Rosa…" Selina's voice was faint, tired, and strained.

"Chica…? Are you okay?"

There was a long pause, but Rosa could hear her breathing. Something wasn't normal.

"_Bella_, talk to me," she pressed in a stern, worried voice. "What's the matter?"

"Rosa…I'm hurt."

...

"Chica, I don't know why you go so far," Rosa said in a stern voice over Selina's bare back. Three deep puncture wounds were still bleeding and raw, peppered across Selina's shoulder blade, each connected by a thin slice as Batman had scraped his arm alongside her skin before he pulled away. They had argued about going to the hospital, but Selina was adamant about staying away from any sort of professional treatment. She couldn't reveal where she got such a unique wound in the middle of the night without raising some sort of suspicion, so Rosa finally conceded and agreed to stitch up the gashes herself. Selina was hunched over the kitchen counter on a stool, while Rosa had a table ready with cotton balls, towels, a sewing kit, hydrogen peroxide, and a lamp with the shade turned up to drive the light across her back.

"If Batman did this to you, then you should stop going out at night," Rosa continued, driving a needle through Selina's skin. Selina sucked in a hiss and bit her lip.

"It was sort of my fault," Selina mumbled. _Wait. Why am I defending him?_ "But still. That goddamn prick. I tried to help him." She sucked in another breath and breathed out as the thread tugged through her flesh. "Ugh, that _bastard!_"

"Language, bonita," Rosa warned her. "I don't like those crude words. And what do you mean it was your fault?"

Selina sighed. It was 4:30 a.m. She wasn't in the mood to explain. However, once again, she had pulled Rosa out of her home in the middle of the night to help her with another Catwoman crisis. Her children had to be awake and at school within hours.

"Someone was going to shoot him. His back was turned. I stopped the shooter."

Rosa stopped sewing and looked over at Selina. "Dios mio, chica. Where were you?"

"It's a long story, Rosa."

"Okay, okay." The sharp pain of the needle came back. Selina clenched her teeth. "Why did he hurt you, then?"

Selina glanced at the pale statue. She lowered her gaze as she thought about how she had stepped into him…under his arm. Like an armadillo or a turtle may have their soft spots, she knew Batman had his. The sides of his suit were thinner and didn't have as much armor so he could move around flexibly. She looked at her leather cat suit, which was lying in a heap on the floor. One set of claws had dried blood on them.

"I hurt him first," she replied softly.

"You what?"

"I got mad," Selina admitted. "I didn't mean to…but…I was just trying to defend myself."

Rosa sighed. "Chica, this is one man you do not want after you."

"He's after me now."

Rosa clipped the thread with a pair of scissors and closed off the first stitching job. Selina clenched her teeth and groaned in pain.

"Still," Rosa said in a low voice, "el demonio. Helping la policia or no…I didn't know he would do something like this. He could have really hurt you."

Selina remained silent. She had a feeling that it had only happened in abrupt retaliation to get her razor-sharp claws away from his ribcage, but she didn't mention it. At first, she had been incredibly angry at him…but the guilt was slowly seeping back into her consciousness.

"You still didn't say what you were doing, _bella_," Rosa dipped the needle in hydrogen peroxide and started to stitch up the second cut. Selina winced. "Gunshots and Batman…and you come away with that thing?" She motioned towards the white statue. It wasn't even a foot tall. "So I may be an older mother of cinco bebés, chica, but I don't think that white piece of clay will get you much."

Rosa's agitation was beginning to show as Selina felt the thread tug harder. She bit her lip and remained quiet.

"I don't know who's crazier," Rosa continued in a bitter voice. "You or Batman."

"Rosa," Selina interrupted softly, "could you go fetch a trash bag?"

"Qué?"

"A trash bag."

Rosa hesitated. "Chica, you hit your head or something? You going to be sick?"

Selina rubbed her eyes. "Please. They're under the sink."

"I _know_ where they are, chica, I'm housekeeper."

Rosa was grouchy and becoming snippy, but Selina kept quiet. Eventually Rosa would understand what the statue was all about. She didn't know if her reaction was going to get worse, however. The smugglers probably brought in blood diamonds…and Selina was hesitant about getting involved in a blood diamond ring. Something deep down told her that trouble was brewing. The diamond operation was obviously illegal, or Batman wouldn't have been there and the diamonds wouldn't have been smuggled in phony statues.

Rosa yanked out a trash bag from under the sink cabinet and held it out towards Selina.

"Put the statue in it," Selina instructed.

Rosa lifted her eyebrows in curiosity, but after a brief pause she obeyed.

"Smash it," Selina said.

"What?"

"Break the statue."

Rosa grumbled something with the words _loco_ and _ridiculoso_ in the sentence, but dropped the trash bag to the ground. The statue broke apart easily inside and Rosa picked the bag back up.

"Okay, es roto. Now what?"

Selina cocked her head towards the bag. "Look inside."

Rosa brought the bag up to the counter, set it down, and spread the opening wider. She plucked out a few large, white clay pieces, but suddenly gasped.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God."

"_That's_ why I took it."

Rosa averted her eyes, closed them, and then looked back into the bag as if she were staring at a mirage. "Oh my…oh my…uno…dos…trés…quatro…Dios mio…cinco…"

Upon seeing the look on Rosa's face, Selina smiled. "There's over two hundred thousand dollars' worth of diamonds in there."

Rosa stared at her, wide-eyed. "What? How do you know that's what they're worth?"

"They _have_ to be worth at least that much. The smugglers were obviously going through a lot of trouble to get them into Gotham."

Rosa gave Selina a sharp look. "Smugglers? Chica, _what_ is wrong with you?"

Selina bit her lip and remained quiet.

After a long silence, Rosa waved a hand and shook her head. "Whatever. It's too early in the morning and I've got to stitch you up before los niños wake up. You can explain it to me later."

Selina breathed a sigh of relief as Rosa continued the stitching, cleaned up, and helped her into bed.

...

Selina had cancelled all her appointments with clients from her trading firm and also with volunteering hours at the Gotham SPCA, claiming she had become slightly ill and would sleep the day off. After several rounds of painkillers, however, comfort seemed impossible. She indeed had tried to sleep most of the day off, but her throbbing shoulder, scraped knees and elbows, bruised legs, and sore muscles made the task much harder. Rosa had come in to check on her after sending the children to school, and she would prepare meals and seltzers for Selina to make her feel more at ease. The diamonds were kept in a small safe, which also housed a semi-automatic 9mm pistol and a wad of cash for emergencies. It was late afternoon when Rosa came into the bedroom to pick up Selina's tray of food.

"How are you feeling, chica?"

Selina's bare back was to Rosa. She was lying on her good side and looking out of the balcony window of her bedroom, watching the silent, sunny glare of the glassy buildings across downtown. Rosa looked at Selina's wound. It was already starting to look less swollen, but it had oozed a bit. She gently sat down at the edge of the bed and ran a damp cloth over it, then applied some antibacterial ointment across the stitches. Selina stiffened but didn't utter a sound.

"Bonita…I'm sorry for being angry with you earlier…but you know how I worry about you."

"No, Rosa. It's okay. You shouldn't have to apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"It's just…I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, chica. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Selina didn't reply.

Rosa looked at Selina's bare back. Ugly purple bruises had blossomed up sporadically across her creamy white skin.

"I can't imagine someone out there wanting to hurt you…especially this _Batman_…someone who's supposed to protect Gotham…"

Selina swallowed. The guilt slowly seeped back into her consciousness, yet she didn't have the heart to tell Rosa that she practically instigated the entire thing.

"I want to help you, chica. Whatever you need, understand?"

Selina blinked at the horizon. She realized what she had to do.

"Rosa."

"Sí?"

"The diamonds can't stay here. I need you to run down to the post office for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll give you the address of an anonymous buyer I know. You've got to ship the diamonds out of Gotham as soon as possible. Just put them in a small baggie, then wrap them with some paper and stick them in an envelope. It'll be okay."

"Are you sure, chica? Should I at least put them in a special package or buy insurance or something?"

"No. I want to make it as inconspicuous as possible."

"Qué?"

"I don't want to attract any attention. Make the letter as plain as can be. Nobody will find them."

"You're making me nervous, chica. What's wrong?"

Selina sighed. "I should never have stolen those diamonds."

...

Alfred yanked open the thick curtains of Bruce's bedroom to allow the late afternoon sunshine flow in. Bruce's growl of protest followed and he moved deeper within the covers.

"I wouldn't presume to ask what you were doing last night, Master Wayne, but it's been over eight hours and you've had enough rest."

"Do you have tomato juice?" Bruce's muffled voice asked under the bedspread.

"Yes, sir."

"Aspirin?"

"Three capsules, sir."

Satisfied with Alfred's lure, he poked his head out of the covers, squinted and screwed up his face from the sunlight, and reached out towards the glass that had been set on the nightstand.

"Has Lucius called?"

"No, sir. I've taken the liberty to let Wayne Tower know that you're indisposed and cancelled all of your appointments."

"Did I even have any important appointments?"

"No, sir."

Bruce nodded. "Well…I guess that's good to hear."

"You did have a trip to the hospital scheduled, but it's been rescheduled later in the month."

Bruce adjusted his pillows and sat up. "Damn. I forgot about that. Don't let me miss the next one."

"Of course, sir."

As Bruce threw the pills in his mouth and gulped down the tomato juice, Alfred eyed him curiously. Bruce set the glass down and glanced at him.

"I nearly got shot last night," he explained nonchalantly.

"Not to be sarcastic, sir, but you nearly get shot every night. Why was last night so different?"

"Because this time I really would've gotten shot. Someone stopped the shooter."

Alfred's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Indeed, sir?"

"You're not going to believe this. It was Catwoman."

"The same cat burglar we're trying to catch, sir?"

"The very one."

"I'm not sure I understand, sir. _She_ was the shooter, or she _stopped_ the shooter?"

"My back was turned and she stopped the guy from shooting at me." Bruce paused and bit the inside of his cheek. The very fact that he had his back turned to someone with a gun didn't seem to bother him as much as not realizing that Catwoman was there. He had underestimated her. Even worse, she protected him from potential harm. It was now even tougher to distinguish whether or not she was one of the good guys or the bad ones. Sure, her motive could have been the diamonds…but then why didn't she sit back and watch Batman get shot? It was the same when she had lifted a hand to scratch his face. She didn't go through with it, and he saw it in her eyes. She didn't want to hurt him. He felt slightly relieved and bothered at the same time. She was simply a cat burglar, so he didn't have to worry about murder or drugs or anything else on her rap sheet…but did he owe her? Could he still arrest her after she tried to help? Perhaps it was all calculated; maybe she had anticipated this. But she didn't even know the crooks at the dock were smuggling diamonds until she broke the statue. Her intent wasn't to steal at all. The reason she did was partially his fault. Bruce rubbed his head and sighed, not wanting to think about it anymore. Alfred watched his expression.

"Assuming that Catwoman hadn't been there, sir, would you still have been harmed?"

Bruce shrugged. Usually panicked shooters missed their mark. Shooting at a figure in the dark lessened the chances of a good hit even more. The odds were in Batman's favor, but his back was turned long enough to give the shooter some time to recollect himself and take aim. His armor was thick enough to soften the blow of a bullet, but he still could have been fatally wounded. Thanks to Catwoman, he hadn't been hit at all.

"In all honesty, Alfred, I don't know."

Alfred nodded and remained silent, picking up the empty glass.

"But I…" Bruce suddenly remembered striking her and cut himself short. "Shit."

"Beg pardon, Master Wayne?"

Not only was she following him around, but now she was pissed and probably wanted revenge. He threw off the comforter and lifted up his arm, displaying a red blotch covered up with a butterfly bandage near his ribcage under the armpit. The cut wasn't so deep that it needed stitches, but it was enough to remind him that Catwoman had found his weak spots and could indeed cut through the suit. She knew what she was doing. It was a tiny little memento.

"She's pissed at me," Bruce murmured.

"Not exactly something you should lament over for a long period of time, sir."

"It's not that…I just think I've made it worse. She's going to steal stuff in retaliation. She was an ally last night…but what if she's my enemy later on?" Bruce ran a hand through his hair. Even though he felt guilty about hurting her, he couldn't help but feel annoyed. This Catwoman was the last person he wanted to deal with right now. As if the issues of women in real life weren't enough…now he had to deal with it even as Batman. What luck.

Alfred couldn't understand why Bruce was pondering over a criminal for so long. If anything, he seemed worried about it. But why? Because she was a woman? If that was the case, things would spiral downhill…fast. On the other hand, she had possibly saved his life. To that extent, the mysterious burglar had a conscience; not something the rest of the criminals of Gotham possessed. Strangely enough, she might be just what the doctor ordered…she might be what Batman needs – something to lift his gloomy spirits. If she was the catburglar, it also meant that she only stole from the rich and greedy. Not so much a horrid crime compared to others. She displayed compassion towards Batman last night, and that exposed a tiny sliver of moral. There was really nothing to do but to wait and see who exactly this Catwoman person would become.

"Master Wayne, perhaps time will tell. I wouldn't jump to conclusions so soon. As for right now, however, I believe it's time for a shower."

Bruce nodded. "In the meantime, we also need to check the diamond brokers and high-class jewelry stores. Check the dealers and wholesalers. Somewhere out there in Gotham someone's close to a quarter-million dollars richer."

"Very good, sir."

"And bring up the research I pulled up last night from the cave. They're on a Russian crime syndicate that's recently shown up in Gotham. Gordon thinks that they might have something to do with the diamonds brought in last night, but we still don't know for sure."


	11. The TripleP Charity Ball

_**Author's Note:**_ **Penguins, Puffins, and Pearls** is actually a real charity event that takes place at the St. Louis Zoo. I did not make up that name. Now that I think about it, it sounds more fitting for an Oswald Cobblepot story, but ah well. I just liked the ring of it, and I thought a lion charity ball would be too cliche. This chapter also turned out to be incredibly long...so apologies for that as well, but I didn't want to split it into two chapters.

It may seem that there's possibly an environmental/political slant to this chapter, and I would like to assure the readers that this was NOT my intention. I don't bring political issues into my fanfics. I just wanted to reflect what I think the views of the characters are. Please don't think that I tried to preach any sort of personal views.  


* * *

It was Friday evening and Selina was staring at two different dresses that had been spread across her bed. One was navy blue; a mock wrap-around that v-necked, had 3/4 sleeves, and a skirt that stopped at the knee. The sash that tied at the side was long, light, and trailed down, making the skirt flow beautifully. It was incredibly simple yet still elegant enough. However, it seemed rather plain compared to the sparkling, dark green dress next to it, which hugged every curve but had spaghetti straps. She would have opted for the green dress, but the night was chilly and she couldn't expose her shoulder blade, which still had not fully healed. The redness and swelling were gone, but Rosa hadn't yet taken the stitches out. Although the unsightly wound would probably be a good conversation starter, it would raise too many questions and Selina didn't want to make up lies. She put the green dress back on a clothes hanger and faced the blue one, putting her hands on her hips.

"Nothing a little jewelry can't compensate for," she grinned.

* * *

Bruce examined himself in the mirror.

"I look so pompous," he curled a lip.

"It's a well-tailored suit, sir," Alfred replied airily. "There's nothing different about it from your other suits."

"Should I have gone with the grey tie?"

"The color I chose stands out and makes you look much more dashing, Master Wayne."

"Light pink? Come on, Alfred. I'm not wearing this. The men at the office have started to wear light pink ties. I'm not falling for it."

Bruce stripped off the tie and held it out for Alfred. Alfred stepped forward and let out a sigh.

"There's no getting any light pastels past you, eh, sir?"

"Dark blue would suit me better."

"If I could but suggest, Master Wayne, that you wear enough _dark_ colors as it is…"

"Dark blue, Alfred."

"As you wish, sir."

Defeated, Alfred went into the walk-in closet and started rummaging around for a different tie. His muffled voice trailed out from the closet. "There's no reason to be nervous, Master Bruce."

Bruce shot a look towards the closet. "What makes you think I'm nervous?"

Alfred's head poked out of the closet doorway and gave Bruce an incredulous look. "Do you really have to ask, sir?"

Bruce shrugged, tugged at his lapels, and checked his cufflinks. "I'll be fine. Different crowd, that's all."

* * *

The Penguins, Puffins, and Pearls charity ball was always held once a year at the Gotham City Public Zoo. The Zoo always closed early one spring evening while the catering staff and decoration crew would set up extravagant lighting, tables, chairs, a large stage, and an area for a piano. The setup was next to a large lake that was located in the middle of the zoo grounds; various ducks, geese, and peacocks were the only animals allowed to roam these parts freely and still gave the charity ball a somewhat exotic look. A stone courtyard was near the lake so people wouldn't have to walk around in the grass, but there was also a botanical section to walk through with park benches. This area of the zoo was mostly overlooked by the small children since there weren't many animals, but the parents and elderly people used it often to rest. It was a perfect spot to hold an evening dinner party.

The guests that frequented this charity ball called it the Triple-P ball. It was held primarily to raise money in order to help build wildlife preserves, fund parks that helped secure endangered species, and raise money for publicity and public awareness towards environmental challenges that posed a threat to wildlife. It was one of Selina's favorite events, and she had been the top contributor for three years in a row. Her name became more famous amongst the wildlife junkies and especially with animal rights activists, and even though she never felt quite comfortable with rich aristocrats, she always felt comfortable with the animal lovers such as herself. The Triple-P charity ball was always something she looked forward to. This year, she managed to contribute a large sum, even more than the previous years before. She was incredibly tempted to contribute an even larger amount after the diamond theft, but thought against it. From what extra money she'd obtained through previous thefts and the decent profits made through her company, she thought it would be best to wait and see what the diamonds would bring after getting ahold of Antoine. Nevertheless, Selina was sure she'd be the top donor again this year.

She had accented her dress with a diamond necklace, diamond earrings, and a diamond bracelet. She had matching navy blue pumps and a clutch purse. She wore her hair in its usual style with a small barette. At quarter to seven Selina stepped out of the cab and headed towards the zoo entrance; the sun was nearly set and the night was free of clouds. It was a perfect spring night to raise money for the animals.

"Selina!" a stout, short woman with grey hair and a round face walked up to Selina and grasped her hand. "I'm so glad to see you! It feels like it's been ages, dear. How's the SPCA?"

"Catherine," Selina smiled and squeezed her hand. "How are you?"

"Can't complain," Catherine sighed and grinned.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about the SPCA," Selina walked with Catherine through the zoo entrance and followed a small crowd down a cobblestone path towards the gala. White tree lights were decorated everywhere and the sound of the piano grew louder as they progressed. Eventually they reached the courtyard and stopped to mingle and talk.

"Buzz is having a hard time getting an expansion going," Selina continued. "The strays are building up and the red tape is overwhelming. Is there anything you can suggest?"

"As a matter of fact dear, I'll see what I can do on my end," Catherine tapped her chin and nodded thoughtfully. "I've got to admit to you, the zoo is a top priority here when it comes to funding additions, especially where the taxpayers are concerned. But I'll try to put in a good word for…oooh, hello there…"

Catherine's attentions shifted over Selina's shoulder and her eyes grew wide with surprise. Selina turned her head to follow her gaze.

"Well, goodness! I had no idea Bruce Wayne attended animal fund raisers!" Catherine smiled.

Selina gaped. Bruce Wayne had entered the courtyard, clean and cut with an incredibly handsome suit, handsome shoes, handsome tie…

_Oh Lord._

"What's he doing here?" Selina hissed.

Catherine chuckled. "You've got me, honey. Have you ever seen him at the Triple-P before?"

Selina just shook her head, watching Bruce greet others and shake hands with a lighthearted grin. All she could do was try not to stare in a confused stupor.

"I didn't know he gave money to these sorts of things. He's a humanitarian."

Catherine fanned herself. "Honey, now he's an environmentalist. That makes him OK in my book."

Without warning, the cheerful woman strode forward and greeted Bruce with a high-pitched coo of surprise and delight, leaving Selina to gawk. He smiled back at her and shook her hand. He was wearing a black suit with a navy blue tie and a tiny American flag was pinned to his lapel. They engaged in friendly conversation while Selina was still trying to figure out what exactly was happening. It wasn't until Catherine cried out "Have you met my good friend, Selina Kyle?" that Selina literally jerked to attention and swirled around, gripping her matching clutch purse and clenching her teeth in panic.

_Was I staring at him? Did he just catch me ogling him? Oh, God. Wait, why do I care? Rosa's injected some sort of Spanish love babble into my head. Fire the housekeeper. Did I put makeup on before I left?_

"Miss Kyle?"

_Oh, God._

Selina turned around and forced a smile. It was obviously forced and she didn't try to hide it. Seeing this, Bruce gave her an amused grin.

"Mister Wayne," she exhaled quickly and cleared her throat. "What a surprise to see you!"

Bruce held out his hand, palm up. Selina took it, thinking he would do a quick, friendly shake, but instead he kissed her knuckle and smiled at her.

"You look absolutely beautiful."

Selina quickly withdrew her hand and felt her face grow hot. "Thank you, Mister Wayne. You're too kind."

Bruce stepped forward as his grin faded. "Please, Miss Kyle. Call me Bruce. I think we can skip the formalities. After all, we're all friends here." He winked at Catherine, who had sauntered up beside them and was positively beaming.

Selina bit the inside of her cheek and put a hand on her hip. "Of course." She looked him over, as if she were sizing him up. She didn't bother to hide her contempt, and Bruce knew it. Even though she was really using her tough visage to cover up her utter surprise and panic, it didn't appear that way to anyone else. Bruce thought that she was anything but flustered, and he wanted to make an attempt to change her guarded manner. He watched her carefully. She looked annoyed, but he was determined to remove whatever predisposition she had set against him.

"Well, then, _Bruce_," Selina grinned as if she were challenging him, "I suppose it would be only fair if you called me Selina."

Bruce gave her a small smile, but something inside Selina curled low. She felt as if he were boring holes in her with those eyes of his. It made her chest pound and her throat dry. She was inclined to step up to him and shriek at him to stop whatever it was he was doing, but then everyone would stare at her like a lunatic. For some reason, Bruce bothered her. For some reason, he had a tendency to make her feel weak and nervous…and men never did that to her. Even worse, this was only their second encounter. Bruce Wayne was trouble.

"Oooooh, isn't that just _darling_?" Catherine's cheerful voice smashed the chemistry and she stood alongside the two. "You both match!"

Selina looked at Catherine as if she'd just swallowed a bug. Bruce glanced at his tie then at Selina's dress. Another small smile crept across his lips. Selina glanced down at her own dress and felt her face flush again.

"Oh, yes…I suppose we do, don't we?"

"You two look picture perfect! You'll have to dance together later for the Triple-P photo album! Especially since this is your first, year, Bruce! Oh, Selina could show you the ropes!"

Catherine winked at Selina, but all Selina wanted to do was slip on her Catwoman costume and slink away into the shadows. What _is_ it with older women and matchmaking? The night she had so looked forward to was now in peril.

Bruce, however, looked interested. "Why, Catherine, I believe that's a great idea."

_It's a horrible idea,_ Selina lamented.

Bruce turned to Selina. "What do you say, Selina? Would you do me the honor and reserve a dance?"

For once, Selina had failed to mask the look of panic that flashed across her face; in a fleeting moment it was gone, but Bruce had noticed. She hadn't danced in years. Nobody really danced at charity balls, unless a wealthy member brought a husband or wife along.

"Um…"

"Go on, honey. Don't refuse the man. He's a special guest here tonight!"

Selina forced herself to be gracious. "Oh…of course I will. I'm sorry. It's just that…I haven't danced in a very long time."

Bruce's eyes sparkled.

"It's pretty easy, sweetie," Catherine waved a hand. "You just move your feet back and forth to the music. Well, I guess I'd better go mingle! See you two later!"

Selina crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Catherine's back. Bruce chuckled.

"Friend of yours?"

"Not anymore."

"Look…Selina, if you don't want to dance…if it makes you uncomfortable, I apologize."

Selina's eyes darted to Bruce. "You don't have to apologize. You're bound to run into a meddling old bitty sooner or later at this function. This was just earlier than expected."

Bruce smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Still…you're not obligated to save a dance for me."

The corner of Selina's mouth turned up into a tiny grin. "Why? When's the last time _you_ danced?"

Bruce shrugged and looked away. "Well…I…"

Selina turned towards him and put her hands on her hips, giving him an amused look.

He looked at her. "In all honesty, a couple days ago. But it was with someone three times as old as you and I had to hunch over in order to correctly lead her. I guess I haven't had a _real_ dance since high school prom."

Selina laughed out loud. "Oh great, that definitely makes me feel better about myself. At least I'm tall enough."

Bruce grinned. His confidence had inflated – Selina hadn't yet refused to dance.

"And just so you know," Selina added, "prom doesn't count. _Nobody_ knows how to dance at prom."

"Well then, my last dance was at another charity auction. And for some reason I always manage to attract the meddling old bitties, as you so eloquently put it."

"It comes with the job description, I suppose."

"You know…it sounds sad, but sometimes people come to those things just to catch a glimpse of me. And I don't mean that in a narcissistic way. The elderly woman I had danced with – she didn't even donate any money until after I offered to dance with her. It's like I have to personally put on a show and convince them one way or another to give up their money to sick children." He sighed and shook his head. "It's almost like…some sort of masquerade."

Selina watched him and found that she agreed with him. There were many times where she attended functions just to get others to donate at least a little to the SPCA. Yet she also pitied him. Bruce Wayne was, indeed, dubbed the Prince of Gotham. She realized that it was probably hard for him. He was following in his parents' footsteps. He surrounded himself with other billionaires not because they were his friends and not because he wanted their money…but because he wanted to benefit the helpless. He had to constantly advertise the cause in order to get others to quit squandering their money. Somehow she knew he was telling the truth. He wasn't concocting some sort of sob story to pull her into his little web. Instead, he was trying to let her know what sort of person he really was. Beneath all the money, all the power, and all the publicity…there was a person. She knew what it felt like.

"You mean you hate sucking-up," she finally said.

"I'm sorry," Bruce shook his head. "I didn't mean to complain."

"Don't worry," Selina replied. "The roles are reversed tonight. If you donate a ton of money to the wildlife preserve, I just might do a little tap dance around you in front of everyone."

Bruce smiled. "I'll take you up on that."

Selina eyed him. "But…about what you said…you're not here to speak about the children's hospital, are you? This is the Triple-P."

"No, I'm not," he reassured her. "Tonight is entirely for the wildlife preserve and endangered species."

"So…I beg your pardon for asking…but exactly why _are_ you here?" Selina asked him. "No offense, but the likes of we environmentalists have never seen a face like yours around our turf. You're telling me that you're not here to convince us to donate gobs of money into a cancer fund?"

"It would be nice if you did, but no, that's not why I'm here," Bruce repeated.

"Then you've turned over a new leaf?" Selina grinned.

"Perhaps," he grinned back.

"Nice to know you've seen the light."

"Probably wouldn't have if it weren't for you."

Selina shot him a look of surprise and was about to reply back when someone onstage had announced that dinner was about to be served on the courtyard patio. Place cards had been assigned to each table and the guests were to take their spots accordingly.

"Well…excuse me, Bruce…we'll have to continue this conversation later. It looks like dinner's ready. They get grouchy if guests don't stick to the schedule…you know…money to be made and all that."

Bruce smiled. "I'll see you later, then."

They took their places at large, round tables that had been decorated with lovely centerpieces and candles. Selina was stuck between an older gentleman and a woman she didn't really know, but everyone at the table conversed quite leisurely about wildlife and the environment, something Selina was always at ease talking about. Two tables over, Bruce was sitting at a table nearly full of women. Only one other man was there, but he was sitting next to his wife. Selina couldn't help but glance over and wonder how in the hell he was managing himself so well at a function so unfamiliar. Everyone had their stalking grounds – and this was definitely not Bruce's cup of tea. A tiny redhead was sitting next to Bruce, but she might as well have been sitting in his lap. She seemed incredibly over-interested in what he had to say, and Selina couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

_Ugh. Make me yak._

"Selina?"

Selina's attention sprung back to the table she was sitting at.

"Hmm?"

"We were wondering how the mountain lion fund is going."

"Oh, yes…" Selina sat forward and sighed. "Unfortunately, it's sort of at a standstill. I've been putting most of my efforts towards the SPCA because it seems more urgent for the time being. The wildlife preserve is still being handled by my lawyers and there's just a lot of paperwork to get through, not to mention the monetary issues. So far, however, things are going well. Just slow."

"You'd better buckle down for the long haul," a male colleague informed her.

"Why do you say that?"

"Rumor has it that someone wants to buy the land you were eyeballing; at a much steeper price. I'm sure they'll want to turn it into some mini-mall or subdivision. It's located right outside of Gotham, right?"

Selina's stomach flipped. "You're kidding? Another buyer? I thought I've taken care of all my competition."

"This one's new. I've just heard it through the political grapevine. I don't know how much of it is true…but keep your eyes open. Tell your lawyers the fight's not over."

Selina sat back in her chair. "Wonderful. I've got to raise more money then."

"Ask your new pal," the woman next to her nudged her with an elbow and cocked her head towards Bruce. "Bruce Wayne into animal rights. Now I've seen everything."

Selina glanced back towards Bruce's table. The entire table seemed to be enjoying themselves and Bruce was murmuring something towards the redhead. She giggled and flipped her hair.

_Oh, come on, Bruce. She is so fake. I thought you were smarter than that. You're on TIME LIFE Magazine's Top 100 most eligible bachelors' list and you don't know a total bimbo when you see one?_

Selina poked at her salad with a fork and forced the thoughts from her head.

_Oh, shut up, Cee, _she told herself._ Why do I even care?_

"Did you hear what the Triple-P changed up this year?" another patron at the table asked.

"I heard they changed something, but they've been keeping it quiet," another answered.

"Guess they want to keep things interesting."

"What would they want to change?" Selina asked. "What, is the top donor going to receive a trip to the Bahamas this time?"

Everyone chuckled and murmurs of "that would be nice," and "wouldn't cost 'em much, would it?" echoed throughout the table. Usually top donors got a plaque, a fruit basket, and a gift certificate to a nice restaurant as a grand prize. Millions of dollars were donated to the Triple-P every year, yet the managers couldn't come up with a bigger reward than that. Although it didn't really matter since it was for charity, members of the Triple-P always made fun of the prize anyway.

"Actually, it's got something to do with the winner, but we don't know what."

"Selina," the woman next to her asked, "what did you and Bruce Wayne talk about?"

Selina groaned inwardly. She wanted to get her attentions off of Bruce and eat in peace. "Nothing, really. Catherine introduced him and we didn't have that much time to talk."

Everyone kept their gaze on her.

"But…I asked him if he was here for any sort of children's hospital duty, and he said no," she continued, knowing that's what they all wanted to hear.

Everyone nodded.

"Still…it's quite curious that he would just show up here all by himself. He didn't even bring a date," the woman raised an eyebrow at his table.

"I didn't bring a date," Selina replied in a somewhat defensive tone.

"Of course not, honey," the woman replied nonchalantly, "but that's because you've been too busy with other things, especially with the SPCA and the wildlife funds. What does Bruce Wayne do all day besides appear at photo ops and show up at night clubs with sleazy women?"

Selina glanced at the woman. "What?"

"Elizabeth," an old man warned, "you don't know that. Don't slander the man if he's here for the wildlife preserve."

The woman named Elizabeth shrugged. "It's just what I've heard, that's all. Bruce Wayne is a total playboy. He's probably here for some more publicity to expand his empire."

Selina felt the sudden urge to defend Bruce. The man was here out of the goodness of his heart and he was already being talked about behind his back. Instead, she bit her tongue and glanced towards his table and realized that he was incredibly brave to show up, let alone donate money to the Triple-P. The people at his table looked friendly enough, but were they simply smiling out of politeness? Nobody here cared for Bruce Wayne until he contributed money to the Triple-P…and that suddenly seemed inexplicably rude. Selina herself had already judged him before even knowing him. The man gave millions towards cancer, Alzheimer's, and autism research. Did that not count towards anything?

The main course, chicken cordon-bleu with seasoned asparagus and mushrooms, was presented but Selina no longer felt hungry. She had spent most of her time thinking she was at home with these people because they cared for the environment, but they were no more different than other rich, stuck-up snobs. There were a few people that were an exception to the rule; Catherine was usually one of them, Antoine was another who lived out of state…but Selina suddenly felt alone. She didn't have many friends that she hung out with on weekends. Weekends were filled with charity balls and fund raisers. She had automatically assumed that the people who shared common ground with her would also come to understand her. As they continued to gossip about Bruce Wayne, however, she felt increasingly uncomfortable. Even though she had assumed the worst about him, she didn't slander him either. Weren't these people grateful that he was giving away his own money towards wildlife?

After the main course, Selina slapped her napkin onto the table, not wanting to hear any more mindless gossip.

"Hey!"

Everyone stared at her.

"What is the matter with all of you?" she hissed, keeping her voice low. "He's _donating _to our charity. We should be grateful that he's here. Who cares if he's here to gain publicity? Maybe he'll direct some attention towards our cause and more people will want to give to the animals. Ever think of that?"

Everyone looked at each other. The old man next to Selina smiled.

"Shrewd as ever, Miss Kyle."

Selina sat back and crossed her arms. "It's just a part of being in business, that's all." She glanced towards Bruce's table and noticed that he was catching a glimpse at her. When their eyes met, he gave her a small smile. She immediately looked away and turned pink.

After the meal, waiters silently walked back and forth to serve cocktails and coffee as the president of the Triple-P stepped onto the stage and began making introductions. He covered everything such as the year's progress, how much money had been raised, the different types of wildlife funds and endangered species to focus on, environmental awareness and how to save energy, et cetera. "I would like to thank each and every one of you for attending tonight's fundraiser. We've managed to raise over five million dollars for the wildlife preserve!"

Applause broke out and Selina glanced over towards Bruce's direction. He was sitting back casually, intent on what the president was saying. She was growing more curious by the moment what he had come to the Triple-P for. In between the breaks of applause, the trickling water from the lake or the distant caw of a peacock echoed out through the courtyard.

The president continued with more introductions and handed out plaques to the most valuable volunteer of everything concerning animals (M.V.V. for Animals) of the entire year, plaques to donors of the zoo, plaques to donors of international environmentalist causes, plaques to land preservation, and plaques to important accountants and lawyers, who, of course, handle all the transactions. Selina had returned to her seat twice with a plaque from the Gotham City Public Zoo and a plaque for land preservation. Bruce Wayne hadn't been awarded anything. She was beginning to wonder fervently why on earth he was here in the first place.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, I know you're all wondering who will get this year's plaque for the most monetary contributions to the Triple-P. Believe it or not, we've had a bit of competition this year in terms of collecting the funds to purchase the new land. I'm sure we're all familiar with our frequent donor, Miss Selina Kyle."

People clapped politely and Selina gave everyone a small smile. She felt Bruce's eyes on her but didn't look his way again. She felt the heat of his gaze and tried to ignore it.

"And of course, Mister Charles Hammond contributed a large sum as well, let's not forget."

A light ripple of applause continued as an old, white-haired man slowly stood and nodded, then sat back down.

"I would also like to remind everyone of Miss Kyle's most recent attempt to raise funds for a new mountain lion preserve that would help ensure the stability of the dwindling cat population and also help the local zoo with their breeding of the rare Bengal Tigers. The new preserve would have not only a research facility to monitor the cats but it would also provide plenty of space to mimic the animals' original habitat so they would not be so confined and raised in captivity, something we all would like to avoid when raising wild animals."

Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement.

"There are pamphlets that we will distribute to give you further information on the developing project. For now, let's give Selina a big hand! She's done so much for the cats!"

Everyone clapped again and Selina gave them all a shy smile. Elizabeth, the woman next to her, gave her a nudge.

"Go on, stand up, honey!"

Reluctantly, Selina stood up and gave a pathetic wave, but people clapped louder and cheered. Catherine whistled. She forced herself not to look over at Bruce's table and felt more exposed than ever. She sat down quickly and the applause died down.

"And now, without further ado, I would like to present this year's plaque to the most important person regarded by the Triple-P. This person has contributed the most money in this fiscal year, by far, and deserves our devoted recognition."

Selina sat forward with anticipation. After that last bonus about the wildlife preserve, surely she'd be the top donor again this year. She'd put forward almost six hundred thousand dollars.

"Our top donor to the Penguins, Puffins, and Pearls charity ball this year is none other than Mister Bruce Wayne!"

Loud applause and surprised whistles and "woos" broke out as Selina nearly rose from her chair but froze in utter shock. Her jaw dropped as she slunk back down and watched as Bruce stood up, humbly waved to everyone, and made his way towards the stage.

"Holy shit!" Elizabeth exclaimed next to her. "I never saw that one coming!"

Selina watched in surprised awe and astonishment as the applause and whistles continued. She was half smiling and half frowning. Her brow was furrowed but she couldn't help but feel amused. So, this was why he was here. He was the top donor? But how? As the reality of it all sunk in, she suddenly realized that she was outdone.

_He outbid me. He beat me. I worked my ass off to contribute all that money and he just shows up here, unannounced, unexpected, and completely blows me out of the water! What the hell? Three years running I've been the top donor. Where did he come from?_

"Mister Wayne has contributed a grand total of eight-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars! Give him a big round of applause!"

_Eight-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars? How long has he known about the Triple-P? Couldn't have been that long…why, just about a month ago he was asking me where to donate…_

The applause grew louder as Bruce stepped onto the stage, shook the president's hand, took the plaque, paused for a picture, and approached the podium.

Selina's thoughts snapped into place and she glared at Bruce.

_He said he wouldn't have done it if it weren't for me._

Bruce smiled at everyone from the podium and cleared his throat for a small acceptance speech.

Selina crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile.

_That sneaky bastard._

"Thank you, everyone, but I know I don't deserve this as much as you do. You've all been giving to the animals for years while I sat on the sidelines. I'm sure you're wondering how I've…" Bruce glanced at Selina. "…seen the light, so to speak."

As people laughed, Selina rolled her eyes and looked away, but she couldn't hide her grin.

"And you're probably wondering why I suddenly decided to donate money towards wildlife…but I had realized some time ago that all creatures of this planet need our help, don't they?"

People murmured in agreement.

"I know I have a reputation for being solely a humanitarian, but I hope that eventually you'll change your opinion about me. The environment and its wildlife also need our help, and I'll do what I can. After all, we can't live without it."

Applause broke out again and he held up the plaque, said "thank you," and stepped away from the podium. The president grabbed Bruce's arm, however, and stepped back up to the microphone.

"Now, now, Mister Wayne, where do you think you're going? We have another special surprise in store."

People murmured and looked around, wondering what else was going to happen. This was the first year the Triple-P had decided to change things up a bit, and nobody knew what the "special surprise" was. Selina watched with an amused grin, arms crossed, hoping they'd get to throw balls and dunk him into a large pool of water like at the fair. Maybe he'd have to feed the lions.

"I'm sure the rumors have been flying," the president laughed, "and we have indeed decided to add a special treat to the event this year to raise more money. This year, the winner of the Triple-P monetary contribution will be put up for auction!"

People gasped and a few women squealed with delight. Bruce gave the president a look of surprise and his cheeks flushed pink. Selina chuckled and realized that not even Bruce knew that this was in store.

"Since this year our winner is a male, the ladies may place bids. I apologize to our other male members of the group, but there's always next year!"

The audience was already atwitter with excitement. Selina looked around. Lots of old women were asking their husbands to get the checkbook out…other younger women were putting lipstick on. She rolled her eyes again and snorted in bitter amusement and glanced at Bruce. He looked uncomfortable.

"The bids will go towards the endangered species fund. You may bid as high as you like, but please, you may only bid U.S. dollars. You may not bid your Mercedes or your house. I know Mister Wayne is a precious commodity, but the rules stand."

Polite laugher echoed throughout the audience.

"The top bidder will win a night with Mister Wayne at Giovanni's Gourmet Italian Restaurant, paid for in full by the Triple-P foundation! But remember, folks, this is all for the endangered species. Bid high, and good luck! Ladies, step up, if you please!"

"Oh, this is too good to be true," Elizabeth cooed as she stood up from her chair and walked towards the stage. Selina shrugged and remained seated.

The women all began to make their way towards the front of the stage, but Selina hadn't moved. She was more than content to sit back and watch with a look of utter satisfaction. Most of the women of the Triple-P were married and older, so it was really all for the charity…but of course there were always the few beautiful ones that would stop at nothing for a date with Bruce Wayne.

_This is going to be good. Catfight! Catfight!_

Bruce already looked apprehensive. However, after catching a glimpse at Selina, he felt strangely better. Unfortunately, she didn't look the least bit interested. She wasn't even standing up. She wasn't going to bid for him. However, the look on her face and her body language – legs crossed, arms crossed, but an amused grin and one eyebrow raised – like she was teasing him from afar – reassured him that it was all in good fun. He could hear her now.

_Meddling old bitties; what can I say? It comes with the job description._

The president handed a microphone to another man who stepped up to the front of the stage and placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"All right, ladies, what do you say? How much for a date with this handsome young bachelor? Do I hear five hundred dollars?"

"Six hundred!"

"Seven hundred!"

"Seven fifty!"

"Eight hundred!"

"I've got eight hundred, do I hear nine? Nine hundred, anyone?"

"Nine hundred!"

"A thousand!"

"Ooooh, we're getting up to the thousands…do I hear fifteen hundred? Come on, ladies, the night's far from over…"

"Fifteen hundred!"

"Sixteen hundred!"

"Sixteen fifty!"

"I've got one thousand, six-hundred and fifty, do I hear seventeen hundred?"

"Seventeen hundred!"

"Eighteen hundred!"

Some light "ooohs" broke out over the crowd, and once the bidding had reached two thousand, a few older women began to drop out. By the time the bidding reached three thousand, the group had dwindled, but Catherine and a few others, including the redhead, were still fighting for him.

"Four thousand!"

"Forty-five hundred!"

"The endangered species conservation foundation needs you, ladies, do I hear forty-seven fifty?"

There was a long pause. The redhead had finally dropped out. It was down to four women…all of them were much older and had a lot of time on their hands. Selina watched Bruce with amused pity.

_By contributing the most to the foundation, he went and tied a noose around his own neck. Those women are going to bore him to death._

"We can't be finished yet! Forty-seven fifty, anyone?"

"Forty-eight hundred!"

"Forty-eight hundred it is, do I hear five thousand?"

"Five thousand!"

Bruce was obviously trying to be polite with his heart-melting smiles, but Selina knew better. Had she been up there, she'd want to fake a sudden stroke too. If all old men were bidding for her, she didn't know which was worse – how sad the situation was that she'd have to go on a date with an old codger, or how sad it was that she would be so cheap. Five thousand? These people were donating to the endangered species fund, for Christ's sakes, and Bruce Wayne was a hell of a lot more expensive than five thousand…wasn't he?

Selina realized that she had a second chance to show him what she was made of. He had beaten her out of a fourth straight title of top contributor to the Triple-P. She wasn't going down without a fight. Ending up on a date with Bruce Wayne wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Besides, it was just business, and the donation was towards a good cause. She silently made an excuse for herself that the money was also available to spend, thanks to the diamonds. It was settled. If Bruce Wayne wanted to start contributing to the environmental cause, then she'd give him an earful while they were eating Gourmet Italian.

"Five thousand, everyone, five thousand to the endangered species fund! Come on, ladies, you can do better than that! What do you say raising it by five hundred?"

Selina's bored, flat voice rung out over the crowd. "Ten thousand dollars."

Gasps and stares were directed Selina's way, and the four women in front of the stage spun around to find Selina standing there nonchalantly, a hand on one hip with a subtle smirk on her face. Upon hearing Selina's voice and seeing her suddenly standing there looking stoic made Bruce's heart skip a few beats. He didn't know if the grin she bore was good or bad. He automatically gulped and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

The host gaped at Selina and finally found his voice. "T…Ten thousand dollars! Ten thousand, everyone! Wow! Is there anyone out there that would like to raise?"

The four old women in the front seemed to deflate and wordlessly conceded to Selina. They looked at Bruce forlornly and slowly made their way back to their seats. Selina stood still and didn't take her glare off of Bruce, as if she were silently daring anyone else to try to raise her. Bruce locked eyes with her and suddenly felt as if he were standing in a sauna. He silently prayed he wasn't sweating.

"Well, I believe that this young lady has just clinched it! Sold! Sold for ten thousand dollars, to the lovely Miss Selina Kyle, all of which of course will go towards the endangered species fund!"

Everyone started clapping, although it was evident that there were a few members that were extremely unhappy. Selina shot a glance towards the redheaded woman and gave her an unashamed, triumphant smile. The woman looked at the ground and looked as if she were about to weep.

The president had taken the microphone back and was patting Bruce on the back. "Selina, come on up here! Come claim your prize! Mister Wayne, I don't think it gets much better than this. Ten thousand dollars to help the endangered species and a free Italian dinner with a beautiful woman. What more could you ask for?"

As Selina casually walked up to the stage, Catherine had caught her hand, shook it to death, and squealed out an incomprehensible sentence of glee. Selina gave her a fake nod of delight and smiled as big and wide as she could, then she kept walking and shrugged at Bruce. Bruce laughed out loud but quickly covered it up with a cough.

"Congratulations, Selina, he's yours," the president held his hand out to her and took hers as she stepped up to the stage. He pulled out an envelope from his jacket and handed it to her. "Here's your gift certificate! Thank you so much for that gigantic contribution! Fighting to the death, were you? Ha, ha, ha!"

Selina gave him a smile that almost instead looked like she was curling a lip at him.

"Before this all comes to a close, was there anything you would like to say to our crowd?"

He put the microphone in her face and she blinked. She glanced at Bruce.

"I'm overwhelmed with joy," she replied sarcastically. She watched Bruce with a neutral face, but her eyes were smiling. He smiled broadly at her subtle poke.

"Oh, of course!" the president cried, "and the festivities don't end just yet! Grab a partner, ladies and gentleman, because we still have an hour of cocktails and dancing left!"

Selina watched the president with an eyebrow raised and started to wonder how the Triple-P was suddenly turning into what seemed like a bad wedding reception.

"Mister Wayne and Miss Kyle, if you would be so kind to start us off."

Before Selina could adamantly protest, the pianist began playing a soft waltz and Bruce had gently ushered her down the stage.

"Let's not make a scene, now."

"Stories of my reputation travel far and wide, I see."

"You were the topic of much conversation tonight."

Selina gave him a surprised glance. "Oh?"

"Nothing bad, I assure you."

"News that I'm a man-eating, self-important animal-rights activist, I'm sure."

Bruce took the initiative and placed Selina's hand in his while putting his other hand on the small of her back. A waiter had immediately taken Selina's purse and envelope from her so she could dance, and she put a hand on his shoulder, allowing Bruce to lead.

He chuckled at her statement and replied, "Man-eating, yes. Self-important, no. As a matter of fact, it's apparently widely rumored that you hardly ever take time for yourself. That's very admirable of you."

Selina grinned. _Oh,_ _I take enough time out for myself late at night..._

"Yes, well, we were talking about you, too."

"Ah, let me guess. Businessman by day, playboy by night. I never go anywhere without a woman attached to my arm and I never show up without a cameraman by my side."

Selina laughed. "Actually…yeah. That's it."

"It was in the paper today. Interesting read."

"I'm assuming it's not true, since I don't see a cameraman in sight," Selina grinned at him.

"Partially true, I guess, since I've got a beautiful woman on my arm." _And I'm anything but a club-hopper at night._

Selina felt her face get hot and tried to ignore the comment. Straightforward remarks like that always made her wary. _He's_ _trying too hard already. No wonder the redhead was practically drooling in his lap; he probably bleeds nice comments. It's his job._

"Actually, we were discussing how to brainwash you completely into donating to the wildlife foundation full time," Selina quipped, getting back to the subject. "Since when did you put together eight-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars like that and decide to donate to the Triple-P?"

"I told you before at the museum…I've been planning to donate to a specific wildlife charity for a long time…it's just that I didn't know where to look. After meeting you – and after you refused to give me any straightforward suggestions – I did the research myself and came upon the Triple-P Foundation."

What Bruce decided to leave out was that he had looked up Selina's business website and had found links to all sorts of wildlife information. The Triple-P was the only foundation that had an upcoming charity event, which he knew she'd attend, so he had immediately donated as much money as he could. He was truthful about wanting to get into some environmental charity, but there was definitely some initiative to see Selina again without appearing like a total stalker.

_Why can't I just be normal and ask for her phone number?_ Bruce thought to himself, and then sadly answered his own question. _Because millionaires don't ask for phone numbers. They ask their agents to ask for phone numbers of other agents who will ask for the phone numbers of their clients. Sad. I guess I could always use the Police Department's civilian database to look for her personal number if it's unlisted…that's even more pathetic._

Selina appeared embarrassed. "Er…oh…sorry about that. I hope you won't think of me as some kind of stuck-up feminist after I tell you this, but I initially thought you wanted to give to wildlife simply to impress me."

_Fuck. She hit the nail right on the head._

"That's why I didn't give you the names of any foundations," she continued. "In retrospect I guess it was a little immature of me."

Bruce smiled. "No, it wasn't. Don't worry about it. I don't blame you for doing that…sometimes people donate money for the wrong reasons, including thinking they have something to gain from it. In that case, it's better to just keep the money."

"Still…eight-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, Bruce. You're making a tremendous difference. Thank you for that."

There was a long pause as they kept dancing. Bruce noted that Selina was the perfect height – they couldn't literally see eye-to-eye, but she was tall enough to where they could dance cheek-to-cheek without him having to crane his neck downwards. They weren't dancing that close yet, of course, but Bruce didn't mind imagining the thought. He already caught faint scents of her hair and perfume and wanted to move in closer, but Selina kept her distance and avoided his gaze, still slightly uncomfortable with dancing. They were in close enough contact, though, to murmur to each other in low voices. Other couples had begun to join in and now the courtyard was full of slow dancers.

Bruce leaned in and said, "So, how about that tap dance?"

Selina laughed. "Not on your life, buster."

"No? I'm the top donor."

"And I bought you, so technically I _own_ the top donor."

_Am I flirting with him? I'm flirting with him! I can't believe I'm flirting with him! Oh, God._

Bruce chuckled. "That was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

"Oh, sure," Selina replied with a sarcastic grin. "Who could pass up free Italian?"

They both smiled at each other and Selina moved in a little closer, feeling more comfortable. Bruce was a good sport; he knew her jabs were only delivered in a joking manner, and he'd smile and laugh at her instead of acting offended. There were few people that put up with Selina's cynicism – her lawyers, Rosa, Antoine, and Meg. 

_Batman definitely isn't one of them. Jerk._

Maybe Wayne wasn't so bad. If he could handle her attitude, perhaps the Italian dinner wouldn't be as agonizing as she originally thought...especially if he smelled this nice. His aftershave wasn't bad, either. As she peered over his shoulder, she noticed all the other dancing couples talking and giving them curious looks.

A photographer stepped in and cried out, "Smile for the camera! Photo for the Triple-P!"

Bruce and Selina automatically gave the photographer their most dazzling - and fake - smiles. After a blinding flash, the photographer was gone.

She groaned inwardly at all the unwanted attention and leaned in even closer to whisper.

"Do you always get an audience wherever you go?"

Bruce glanced up, looked around, then leaned in again. "Pretty much."

He sensed her discomfort again as she glanced around.

"Suddenly I feel sorry for you," she admitted in a low voice.

"Don't get carried away," Bruce joked. "I might think you're warming up to me."

"Nah," she shrugged. "I just want your money."

Bruce snorted. "At least you're honest about it."

Selina grinned at him. "Do you want to go somewhere else? I want to show you something."

"Sure."

They left the dance floor; dozens of eyes followed them, but Selina knew she could take Bruce to one of her favorite spots without being bothered. A waiter handed Selina her purse.

"Could I get something for you to drink, miss?"

"A cosmopolitan, please."

"And for you, sir?"

"Scotch on the rocks, thank you."

After receiving their drinks, Selina motioned her head towards a paved pathway that led further into the zoo grounds.

"Okay. Follow me."

The path took them past the penguin house, the area where the seals play, and a small train station that gave tours. The pens grew larger and the signs all read _African Elephants, Giraffes,_ and _Zebras, Wildebeests, and Impalas. _All of the fenced-in areas were empty, however, since the animals were usually brought in during the night. Bruce was about to ask where they were going until they stopped at the lion pen. They were separated by a large wooden rail, a large fence, and a moat. The lions on the other side were all gathered under a large tree feeding on a gigantic slab of meat that had been put out for them; as the visitors stopped at their fence, they all looked up and stared curiously. There was one male and three females.

"Wow," Bruce breathed. "How come they're not kept inside like the others?"

"Lions are never active during the day, especially in the heat," Selina explained. "All they ever do is lie around. They like to hunt at night, so a major feeding occurs at night instead. I used to work for the zoo and I'd help feed them and clean up after them. It was such a neat experience."

"How come they won't feed them during the day?" Bruce asked. "That way it'll attract more attention."

"They do sometimes," Selina nodded, "but they still need to be fed at night since they're so active at this time. They're not kept inside like most of the other animals; they've got a den over there in that corner." Selina pointed to a deep cove. "This pen is tiny enough as it is. They're not provided a lot of space. If you've noticed, there's no lion cubs."

Bruce nodded.

"They take the babies away and raise them in a separate facility," Selina explained. "If the cubs were to stay here, the male would surely kill them for territorial purposes. The same goes for the Bengal Tigers. They're not even kept here at the zoo because of the fear of theft. Tigers are worth a lot of money."

"So you're fighting for more land," Bruce nodded.

Selina turned around and pointed to the pen across from the lion pen. It had been decorated with fake rocky cliffs and a net covered the entire area. Staring back at them were glowing, yellow eyes belonging to a large figure curled up on a jutting piece of rock. Its pupils reflected the overhead emergency light above.

"Yes, as well as for the mountain lions and panthers," Selina added. "They virtually have no space in here. They're kept outside as well. I'm fighting for more land to make a wildlife preserve where they can run free while still being observed by the general public. I know the zoo exists to protect the animals and educate people about them…but I just feel like I can do a much better job giving the animal everything it needs by providing more space. That way its progeny can thrive as well and we might even be able to build up the endangered species by allowing them to breed in a more natural habitat."

"So, you brought me here for a sales pitch?" Bruce teased.

Selina reddened. "Sorry. It sure sounds like it, doesn't it? That's not what I meant to do."

"Don't be sorry," Bruce took a sip of his drink. "It's something you're passionate about, so you should spread the word. It's great that you're doing this. I didn't know that there was a space problem here in the zoo for most of the animals, and now I know. Where did you want to put the wildlife refuge?"

"There's a patch of land located right outside the city," Selina replied. "So far, it sounds like my lawyers have been doing a good job trying to secure it, but I was just told tonight that there was another buyer interested in it as well. I don't know how much of it is true, but I guess I'll have to step up my efforts if I want to have that land solely for the animals. The last thing I want to happen is to be out-bid by some high-class dodo who wants to build another theme park or strip mall."

Bruce furrowed his brow. "Really? Someone else wants to buy the land?"

Selina glanced at him. "It's not you, is it?"

Bruce chuckled. "No, I'm not into the mini-mall industry. But usually when someone invests in a subdivision or new land for something commercial, we hear about it. I'll have to ask around. This is news to me."

"If you could snoop for me and find out, that'd be wonderful," Selina smiled. "Again, it could be just a rumor."

Bruce shrugged. "No problem. I'm curious to see who it could be, now that you've mentioned it."

He secretly hoped that there wouldn't be a hostile push to build more subdivisions. People needed to move back into Gotham, not out. A mountain lion refuge would be better for dozens of reasons.

The lions snarled at each other and one lioness ran off with a chunk of red meat. The rest of them continued to eat at the larger slab.

"Charming," Bruce smiled. "You like to come out to watch this, eh? I guess it's better than watching television."

Selina smiled, leaned against the railing, and sipped at her martini. "It's just that working here at night was peaceful for some reason. Watching the animals play…feeding them…cleaning them…all the while getting a chance to spend time with wildlife and nature. It's safer than going to the Gotham City Park, and it's quieter than going during the day, when you're surrounded by screaming kids. I miss it sometimes."

Bruce glanced at her and watched her expression. He knew what she meant – he could fully appreciate peace and quiet whenever he could get the chance. As she took a sip of her martini, he couldn't help but notice her expression. She looked happy as she watched the animals – and she also looked gorgeous. He started to wonder how on earth he had never heard about her before.

"When did you get started in the fundraising business?"

"After dropping out of vet school, I helped with publicity whenever I could," Selina replied. "I did odd jobs helping the animals, working at shelters and refuges. After I finally got a good job situated, I started volunteering. When I had earned enough money for myself, I donated the rest. It only seems fair."

Bruce was beginning to appreciate her more and more. "You dropped out of vet school?"

"It's a long story," she sighed. "But yeah, I did. It didn't go over too well with some people."

"I dropped out of school too."

Selina gave him a surprised look. "You did?"

"It's a long story," Bruce smiled. "But I had a few issues to deal with."

"Well, forgive me for saying this, Bruce, but you were born into money. Life must seem a lot easier from your point of view. Dropping out of school must've been a luxury you could afford," Selina shrugged. "It was a decision I shouldn't have made."

_I became a thief and broke the law._

Bruce sighed. "Look…would it have mattered if I went to school or not? Probably not. I was born into it, you're right…and I have to keep my father's legacy going no matter what. However, it doesn't mean that I floated through life…by all means. I know it's hard for you to believe, but money doesn't bring happiness. Least of all to my family."

Selina swallowed and wish she'd have kept her mouth shut. "I'm sorry…I…I wasn't thinking, Bruce. I was being insensitive."

"No, you were being truthful. I appreciate that."

Selina looked down.

"But I just want you to know that I don't spend my days playing golf and signing contracts."

_I beat the shit out of thugs and glide across skyscrapers._

"No, of course not," Selina replied, feeling embarrassed. "I guess you can toss me into the group of people that always judge books by their covers. I apologize."

Bruce glanced at her and grinned. "It's all right. I'm sure you'll have a chance to redeem yourself tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?"

"Is it a good time for Giovanni's?"

Selina nodded. "Yes, it is. I don't have anything planned."

Bruce held out his elbow for Selina. She took it and they began walking back towards the main courtyard. The night was wrapping up.

"Good, then it's a date."

Selina chuckled. "It's not a date, it's business. I bought you, remember? Prepare for a night full of animal fund-raising rhetoric."

Bruce feigned rolling his eyes. "Oh, _God_."

"Six o'clock. That's what the gift certificate says."

"Six o'clock. Got it."


	12. Giovanni's Restaurant

Selina paced back and forth in her living room, clasping her hands together and biting her lip. Isis followed her across the room, unsettled that her owner wouldn't relax, and she let out soft mews from the anxious atmosphere. Rosa was cleaning the kitchen and looked up from the countertop she was scrubbing.

"Chica, you'll wear your carpet thin. Why don't you sit down?"

Wordlessly, Selina plopped down onto the sofa and lifted her head towards the ceiling. Isis hopped in her lap and watched her with wide, curious eyes. Selina petted the cat absent-mindedly and sighed.

As much as she refused to admit it, she was nervous. Two encounters with Bruce Wayne and she can't even greet the third without her heart threatening to pop out of her chest.

_This is ridiculous,_ she thought to herself. _Men don't make me nervous. Business tycoons like Wayne shouldn't make me nervous. This is just business, it's nothing personal. This isn't a date. I paid for this opportunity so he could make more contributions towards wildlife. Maybe he can even throw in a donation to my preservation fund._

Selina let out a tiny snort and closed her eyes. _Who am I kidding? The man is melt-your-face gorgeous. One look and I fall to pieces. This is going to be a nightmare. I can't let one of the world's richest bachelors see me in a nervous wreck._

She ruefully thought back on what she had initially thought about him. At first, she perceived him to be a pompous, simple-minded bureaucrat with lots of money to waste without a second thought about anybody else. However, he turned out to be the exact opposite. Bruce Wayne was a gentleman, he was thoughtful, he was witty, he was a good sport, and he contributed millions of dollars to those that needed it. She was better off when she thought less of him, because then she could at least be indifferent towards his advances. His warmth at the Triple-P charity ball had begun to melt her cool visage, however, and now she wasn't exactly sure how to act around him. Nobody had this sort of effect on her before.

_Get a hold of yourself! You're Selina Kyle, for God's sake! You're a man-eater! You've stood up to Batman!_

Her stomach churned as flashes of Bruce Wayne being followed by a frenzy of photographers and TMZ interviewers entered her mind. Compared to this, a night with Batman seemed like child's play.

_Oh, God, I don't want my picture taken. I don't want to be branded as Bruce Wayne's latest fling. This was a bad idea._

"Bonita, are you okay? You look sick."

Selina's eyes snapped open. Leave it to Rosa to point out the obvious.

"I thought you were going to a business meeting. Why are you so nervous?"

Selina was about to reply when the phone rang. She reached over to the side table and answered. She had meant to sound cheery and polite, but her voice came out croaked with a hint of dread.

"Hello?"

"Miss Kyle, this is the front desk. Mister Wayne has arrived for you and is waiting in the lobby."

"Thank you. I'll be down shortly."

She hung up the phone and collapsed onto the sofa. Isis jumped off with a meow of protest and Rosa looked at her, placing her hands on her hips.

"You'd better go down and meet that young man, chica."

Selina stared at her with her mouth open. "How did you know?"

"You never act like this. It must be a man."

Selina groaned and put her hands to her face. "Call the front desk, Rosa. Tell them something came up. I have to cancel."

"Oh, no you don't," Rosa slapped a wet rag onto the table and leaned over Selina. "Look at you! Dios mio. You're worse than my children on the first day of school. Get up! Vaya!"

Selina reluctantly stood up and held up her arms. "Well? How do I look?"

"As always, chica, you look beautiful," Rosa admired Selina's clothing of choice. She put a hand to her chin. "I was wondering why you dress so fancy for a Saturday night business meeting." Abruptly holding up a palm, she backed away. "Uno momento, chica. Wait there. Don't move."

"Huh?"

Rosa trotted into the hallway, opened up the linen closet, and returned with a lint roller. "You can't go anywhere with that cat's hair all over you."

Selina looked down. Isis's gray fur was on her red, boat-necked dress. The dress was fitted and had a matching suit jacket for business meetings, but Selina had decided to forego the jacket and brought a matching sweater just in case the night got chilly. The dress stopped just above the knee and zipped up in the back. She wore matching high-heeled pumps and a simple pearl bracelet. This time her hair was in a French twist.

Rosa applied the lint roller to Selina's dress, checked over it two more times, and then gave a nod of approval.

"Go and knock him dead, chica," she smiled. "Who are you going out with tonight?"

Selina grabbed her purse and opened the door. "Bruce Wayne."

Rosa gasped. "Bruce Wayne?"

Selina stepped into the elevator and smiled at Rosa, putting on her business face and acting nonchalant. She was glad to be able to tease Rosa just a bit before leaving. "Yep. Maybe I'll bring him up later."

Rosa gave a small jump. "Dios mio...! Don't worry, chica, I'll have this place as clean as can be!" As the elevator doors chimed and closed, Rosa turned around in a panicked circle, looked around, closed the door, and made the sign of the cross and uttered a prayer in Spanish, asking that Selina would behave herself and for once, manage to snag someone who would deserve her.

* * *

Bruce greeted Selina in the lobby, kissing her hand as he did the previous night. Selina blushed and suppressed the wave of goosebumps she felt when his lips touched her skin.

"Bruce, you don't have to do that every time you see me. It's just dinner."

Bruce grinned at her nonetheless as he noticed her blush. "Sorry…it's just that I was raised by a British man who taught me to be the utmost gentleman."

Selina glanced at him, looking speculative. "Oh yeah?" _What a crock._

Bruce led her out the doors and parked before them was a taupe, four-door Bentley. A friendly-looking white-haired man opened the door and smiled at Selina.

"Selina, may I introduce you to my butler and best friend, Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred, this is Miss Selina Kyle – the environmentalist I was telling you about."

"Of course, sir," Alfred tipped his hat and nodded to Selina. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Kyle."

Selina arched her brows in surprise at his English accent. "Oh…how do you do!" She smiled politely and took his hand, which was outstretched towards her. He kissed her knuckle politely and motioned once more towards the backseat. Selina shuffled into the car, followed by Bruce, and Alfred took the wheel, driving towards Giovanni's. Selina gritted her teeth and immediately felt foolish for judging Bruce…yet again.

The drive, to Selina, felt incredibly awkward. Being chauffeured around with Bruce Wayne was definitely humbling…and nerve wracking. Luckily, nobody had seemed to pay any attention to their departure.

"I have to admit," Selina smiled coolly, "I'm incredibly glad there weren't any photographers swarming around you. I was worried I'd be an excuse for the tabloids to attack you."

Bruce smiled back. "Not yet, anyway," he joked. He sat back leisurely and shrugged. "I've been keeping a low profile lately. Usually, when I get publicity, it's for a ribbon-cutting ceremony or some gigantic gala. Besides, I figured you wouldn't like that sort of attention, so I made sure that there wouldn't be any vultures hanging around Giovanni's tonight."

Selina smirked. "And how'd you manage that?"

"They think I'm in Paris."

Selina's smile grew wider. "You told the media you were in Paris?"

Bruce nodded.

"Well, I wouldn't want to make a liar out of you," Selina joked. "Let's blow this Giovanni's thing and go to Paris instead."

Bruce chuckled. "I'm afraid that in order to go to Paris, you'll have to promise me a second date. I never go overseas with someone the first time around."

Selina laughed and wondered if he was serious or not. _Did he just imply that this was our first date? Oh, God._

Giovanni's was busy, but there was always a spot reserved for Mr. Wayne if need be. It usually took a good three weeks to make a reservation in advance, but combined with the Triple-P certificate and Mr. Wayne's request, they had the best table in the entire restaurant. It was a very private, intimate place that was usually associated with the richer debutantes and socialites of Gotham, and Bruce Wayne was no stranger here. Selina was surprised to find that there was already a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket next to their table, along with beautiful lit candles and a small flower centerpiece. There were no windows overlooking the crowded city; instead they practically had their own private room, of which only a few waiters bustled in and out.

After a waiter served them champagne and listed off the special dishes for the night, he left them alone to decide on their order.

"Jeez, Bruce, did you do this, or was this really what the Triple-P gave us?"

"I checked out the Triple-P's reservation," Bruce admitted. "I didn't really like the location of the table, so I asked to have this spot instead."

Selina gaped at him. "You what?" _How egotistical!_

Bruce glanced at her. "You don't like the privacy?"

Selina shrugged. "Actually, I do, but what was so bad about the other table?"

"It was in the middle of the floor. We'd have to shout at each other in order to have a proper conversation."

Selina smiled at him. "Oh." _How thoughtful! _

After they ordered their food and received a salad plate with some bread, Selina forced herself to relax. Once she stopped mentally picking Bruce apart, she found that he was very pleasant company. They talked from everything ranging from his work to hers, their international travels, their experiences in college, and their fundraising. Bruce talked to her about the children's hospital and he appreciated the fact that she was listening intently instead of feigning interest. She even asked questions and made suggestions. It was the same with her as she described the mountain lion fund; Bruce had even mentioned looking into her possible competition to buy the land.

"I asked around," he took a sip of water, "and found that some new company is thinking about placing a higher bid. For what and for how much, I don't know – they haven't specified – and I honestly don't know where this company came from. It's like they just popped out of the woodwork; some international firm that bought out a few companies here in Gotham and now they're making a larger investment, I guess."

Selina sighed, disappointed in the news. "I had hoped that this wouldn't happen, but I'm not really surprised. I've already warned my lawyers. I guess we'll have to dig a trench and battle it out like civilized bloodsuckers."

Bruce smirked. "I've got some people watching the deal. I'll let you know if any more information turns up."

Selina looked at him, surprised. "Bruce! That's not necessary; you've already done too much. Really, don't go out of your way for me - "

"Well, I figure since I'm going to donate a large chunk of my money to help save the mountain lions and Bengal Tigers," Bruce interrupted with a glint in his eye, "that wildlife preserve needs to be built. Our investment for that land, therefore, is important. Wouldn't you agree?"

Selina stared at him. He sat back and took another sip of water, watching her with an eyebrow raised and his mouth curled into the tiniest smile. After a long pause, Selina closed her mouth and set her fork down, leaning forward onto the table.

"You're too much, do you know that?"

Bruce smiled.

"I don't get it," she shook her head. "First it was the Triple-P, now it's my wildlife fund. What's the deal?"

"I owe you," Bruce grinned. "You paid ten thousand dollars for me, remember?"

"So you're giving ten thousand dollars back to the mountain lion preserve?"

"No, I'm giving thirty-thousand dollars to the preserve."

Instead of gawking this time, Selina suppressed the utter surge of triumph and narrowed her eyes instead. Her reaction didn't skip a beat as she leaned forward even more.

"All right, mister-big-shot, what's the catch?"

Bruce smiled. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. I've hardly presented my case to you and you're throwing your money at me. I never give such large donations on a whim like this; I do my research for weeks – even months – ahead of time and even _then_ sometimes I'm still not convinced. Yet this is only the third time we've seen each other and you have absolutely no qualms about my background. Why is that, Bruce?"

What Bruce didn't tell her was that the mysterious company looking at Selina's land also seemed to be linked to the sudden Russian movement into Gotham. He couldn't pin down any details for sure, but he wanted to investigate the matter much further and find out whether or not corrupt shareholders - and diamond smuggling - had anything to do with it. If the Russians were shopping around for turf, disguising it as a property buy-out, he had to make sure Selina got the land first. Gotham had to keep the gangs out.

Bruce leaned forward as well and spoke in a low, husky tone. "Why are you so adamant to find a fault in me, Selina?"

Selina swallowed and ignored the hot flush rising up her body. "Everyone's got skeletons in the closet."

"Even you?"

"Even me."

"Such as?"

"You first."

Bruce chuckled and leaned in even more. "You want to know? Promise me a second date and I'll tell you then."

Selina gave him a gritting smile. "I _knew_ it. You're trying to lure me."

"Hey, I'm a man, aren't I? Even I have my limits."

"You'd contribute money towards my wildlife fund just to get a second date with me?"

"No, I really do want to give money to help the preservation. But now that you mention it, I'd probably contribute an extra thirty-thousand to score another date with you, yes."

She shook her head but couldn't suppress the smile. "You've got some nerve."

"Is that a yes?"

"You're unbelievable."

"It's a win-win situation, Selina."

"You can't _buy_ me, Bruce."

"You haven't said no."

At first, she felt every hair on her body prick up, just like a cat's, at his gall to admitting that he'd pay an additional thirty-thousand for a second date. However, the sparkle in his eye and the tone of his voice assured her that he was only joking. If he was being absolutely serious, she would have stormed out of the restaurant already. Instead, it was all in sheer fun. He was just getting a rile out of her to see what she'd do.

"You know, offering money isn't exactly a good way to pick up women," Selina lifted up her glass of champagne and smiled at him wryly. "That sort of stuff only happens down in the narrows."

"I at least succeeded in flattering you, didn't I?"

"Hardly."

"So, next Saturday?"

Selina laughed, making his chest flutter. "All right. But only because it's a pity date. You won't lay off. It's obvious you haven't been on a date with a _real_ woman for some time."

Bruce chuckled. "I guess I'll consider that a compliment."

"I do my best."

"Don't worry; if you change your mind, you can always cancel or stand me up later."

"I'll consider that, thank you."

They enjoyed their meal with more sarcastic banter and small stories about each other. Although it was still early in the night, Bruce decided to test her with a popular little subject he always liked to bring up in front of people to judge their reaction. It was his way of really knowing whether or not this person was worth spending time with. He was beginning to really like Selina Kyle, but to keep dating her was incredibly risky. Most of his dates were to keep up appearances only and none of them were ever serious or exclusive. Selina was different, and he knew that he didn't want to hurt her in the long run. Relationships were complicated. It was all right if she ever decided to blow him off, but if _he_ really wanted to continue pursuing _her_, he had to ask the question.

"So, what do you think of Gotham's masked vigilante?"

Selina paused and stared at him for a moment. She blinked and replied slowly, "You mean Batman?"

She almost asked if he meant Catwoman, but she didn't recall seeing herself in the papers lately. Besides, she was probably not considered to be a vigilante, although she preferred that title instead of 'robber' or 'burglar.'

"Yeah. I'm just curious…I mean, I hear people praise him and I hear people think he's nuts."

Selina shrugged. "I haven't really been paying attention to the hype, actually," she lied. "I don't really value the opinions of the media. A lot of that reported news is skewed…at the same time, there are a lot of corrupt cops out there that still need to be taken care of." She sighed and set her fork down. "I guess when I compare the current Gotham to the past Gotham, I believe it's gotten much better, and I think we owe it to the Batman."

Bruce was surprised at this remark but hid his reaction well. Usually he received negative comments about Batman from the richer crowd (his being one of them as a guise), probably because they were afraid, but Selina didn't seem to care what everyone else thought of her opinions.

"You don't think he's a little…" Bruce paused and pointed at his head. "…crazy? The guy wears a bat suit."

Selina chafed a little. "No, I think he's smart. If I was a criminal and if I came face-to-face with the Batman, I'd be scared shitless."

_And I was._

Bruce watched her with heightened interest. It was her last words that struck an odd nerve with him.

_As much as you scare the shit out of me, Bats, I couldn't very well let you get shot while your back was turned, could I?_

He started to wonder how Catwoman was doing and was painfully reminded about how he had slammed sharp blades into a woman. He shrugged off the thought of her and continued to listen to Selina.

"He wears that suit to intimidate others," Selina continued. "Besides, there's more to that suit than just bat-ears and a cape. I may not watch the news very much, but I've seen clips. That guy can _do_ things, without a gun. Even Navy SEALs have guns."

"They can still kill with their bare hands," Bruce pointed out.

Selina smiled. "Well, there you go. He's a Navy SEAL. We've solved the mystery."

"Batman doesn't kill," Bruce cut in. He checked himself and shrugged. "That's what I've heard, anyway."

Selina sighed and mumbled, "He sure does inflict a lot of damage, though."

Bruce blinked and wondered at her statement.

"I wonder how much the taxpayers are contributing towards all his handiwork," she quickly added.

It was Bruce's turn to chafe. "Better than contributing towards a corrupt cop's salary, I wager."

Selina smiled. "So, what do _you_ think of him? Do you think he's crazy, or do you think he's doing Gotham some good?"

Bruce sat back and sighed. "I think he's both, actually. Whoever he is, he's got a lot of guts going out there and taking on the entire city single-handedly. I mean, what's in it for him? Why do it? There's got to be a reason, crazy or no."

Selina nodded silently and thought about Batman. It was dark outside; he was probably out there on the rooftops. What if he really was crazy? No. He had to have his wits about him in order to fight crime like that. He was far from lunacy. She started to wonder at his past, however. What made him become that way?

They were nearly finished with their meal when Bruce's cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He took it out, glanced at it, and noticed that the number was private.

"Selina? I'm sorry, would you excuse me for a moment? I don't normally take calls when I'm out, but this particular call could be important."

"Sure." She understood those. Usually hers came from the SPCA. Even though Bruce wasn't a doctor, he still probably had a lot of decisions to make as the head of Wayne Enterprises and the children's hospital. She was already surprised that they got through dinner without a single interruption.

Bruce passed the crowded tables and spoke in a low tone. "Alfred? Yeah, I'm coming. No, I wasn't able to see the signal from here, there aren't any windows…what do the police scanners say? All right. Pick me up in the back, I'll meet you there."

The minutes ticked by and Selina found herself glancing at her watch. The waiter came and left, served full glasses of water, corked up the champagne, and Selina denied dessert. After twenty minutes passed by, she started to get worried. Was it an emergency? Was everything all right? Did he forget about her?

After ten more minutes, Selina stood up and was about to walk out of the room to find out what happened when the manager entered.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Kyle, but Mister Wayne asked that I leave you a message."

"Oh…is everything all right?"

"Yes, Miss Kyle, quite all right. Something unexpected at his company has just come up and he had to deal with the situation immediately. He leaves you with his most sincere apologies and promises to contact you again as soon as possible. In the meantime, he bid me to let you know that he will have transportation available for you as soon as you wish to leave. You may notify the hostess near the front entrance and she will direct you to Mister Wayne's chauffer."

"Oh…all right…thank you."

"How was your evening?"

"It was wonderful, thank you." _Until Bruce bailed on me._

"If there is anything else I can do for you, Miss Kyle, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"Um…yes, thank you."

_If I say 'thank you' one more time I'm going to scream. How could Bruce leave me alone like this? _

Selina walked out of the room and headed towards the hostess, wondering what sort of deal Bruce had to take care of that he couldn't return to at least let her know himself. She really didn't mind all that much, since she had a terrible habit of leaving men behind without a single explanation.

_Don't be upset, you do it all the time. For kittens. He's probably running a WWIII drill. _

The only tiny, nagging thought in her head that wouldn't go away was if it was possible that Bruce wasn't enjoying himself and he used a phone call as an excuse to leave.

_No. He's a prominent business figure and wouldn't want to hurt his reputation over something so silly like disappearing on a date._

_But he's a very important man. He has the luxury to leave whenever he wants and forget about people without a second glance._ Selina sighed and walked up to the hostess.

"Ah, Miss Kyle…your ride is just outside, waiting for you. It's the black Jaguar."

Selina walked outside and the car door was opened for her by a valet attendant. The chauffer wasn't Alfred, but he worked for Wayne Enterprises and was just as gracious. Before greeting him, however, the bright spotlight above caught her eye. The Bat signal was being pointed towards the dark clouds and she felt a chill as she thought about Batman.

The drive was quiet, but pleasant. The driver glanced at her from the rearview mirror.

"Miss Kyle, Mister Wayne expresses his sincere apologies for having left abruptly like that. He said he would contact you as soon as things have been resolved."

"Yes…I hope it's nothing serious…"

"Oh, no, ma'am. These little company emergencies happen all the time. It's the curse of being the CEO, unfortunately. Mister Wayne does everything he can to run the business smoothly."

Selina felt more at ease and smiled at the driver through the rearview mirror. "Well, I appreciate it very much. Thank you for taking me home."

"My pleasure, ma'am."

When Selina arrived at her apartment, Rosa was waiting for her, but her reaction wasn't happy.

"That was quick, chica. Where is he?"

Selina sighed.

Rosa's jaw dropped. "Did you scare him off?"

Selina chuckled and closed the door behind her. "I certainly hope not. Dinner was interrupted by a business call, and he had to leave."

"He what??"

"He's an important man, Rosa. It was probably something urgent."

"Nothing can be that urgent on a Saturday night, chica."

"He's the head of Wayne Enterprises. He probably had to go to China or something."

Rosa gave a disapproving shake of her head. "Men these days, no comprendo! How are these business people ever going to land a husband or wife when they can't spend the proper time with them?"

_Here we go,_ Selina thought.

"If Bruce Wayne can't see your beauty and ingenio, then you're better off without him!"

"Rosa…"

"Lo siento, chica, it's just that I had such high hopes…"

"I know."

"I just wanted you to spend time with someone other than that Batman." She angrily motioned towards the French doors leading to the patio, which were wide open and a clear view of the Bat signal could be seen.

Selina glanced at the spotlight and a small grin spread across her face.

"Well, the night is still young…"

"No! No, no, no, bella! You're still recovering from that shoulder wound! He hurt you! Don't go looking for more trouble, eh?"

Rosa's words rang hollow, however, as Selina was already making her way towards her bedroom to put on her Catwoman suit, Isis trotting happily behind her.


	13. Releasing the Steam

Batman sat on the ledge of a tall skyscraper, idly watching the city life below him, and taking a breather from the most recent criminal round-up. It was business as usual; nothing he couldn't handle, really. The police were having trouble rounding up a few gun runners during a transaction and even one cop was injured in the firefight, but Batman helped catch them all without a hitch. A few drug busts later, he was contemplating his night with Selina. He shouldn't have left without telling her something, but Gordon needed help and it couldn't wait. He knew that she was the type of independent woman that would understand, yet he knew that she was looking for any minor flaws, and now she had a good excuse to be angry at him.

_Flaws,_ he thought to himself darkly_. If_ _only she really knew my flaws._

He seriously considered a second date with Selina, but it was dangerous. He hardly ever had time for romance. What if it progressed further than a second date? A third? A fifth? What if they became exclusive? When he thought that far ahead, his imagination shut down and he refused to mull on it further. Nothing ever became exclusive. Ever. He could barely fit in time for himself, let alone a woman. It was doomed from the beginning, yet he couldn't stop thinking about her. Something was different about Selina. He obviously wasn't ready to trust her – he didn't trust anyone except Alfred, Lucius, and occasionally Jim Gordon – but she was smart, beautiful, had a fast wit, and didn't seem to ever think about herself. A lot of the Gotham debutantes threw themselves at Bruce Wayne, but he'd never give them a second glance. Gold diggers and bimbos did not interest him, despite what the media portrayed. Selina was the complete opposite – when they first met, she acted absolutely uninterested in him. At first, he thought she was involved with someone else, but after a lot of Triple-P gossip and doing some of his own research, Selina in many ways was just like him. She simply didn't have time for anyone else, nor did she care.

A dispatch crackled to life in Batman's earpiece, but it was about a domestic dispute and a patrol car would be there shortly.

It was risky, but he decided to give it another go with Selina. That is, if she was still willing to go out with him again. He was drawn to her and he felt that he simply couldn't ignore the feeling…at least for the time being. His gigantic conscience was screaming at him all the thousands of reasons why he should quit now, while he can, without making things worse. He concluded that maybe he should ask for Alfred's advice on the matter first before making a concrete decision.

"_Patrollers, this is Dispatch, Gotham city police patrollers in the southwest district be advised; we have a ten-ninety, possible ten-thirty-one, location Fifty-fourth and Metropolitan street."_

"_Squad car seven, we're ten-seventy six."_

"_Ten-seventy-six, squad car four also."_

"_Ten-four."_

"_Dispatch, what's the ten-eleven on that?"_

"_Vivian's Jewelry Shop. Number of suspects not determined. Suspects possibly armed and dangerous."_

"_Ten-four."_

Batman narrowed his eyes and turned southwest, jumping off the building and spreading his cape wide.

* * *

Catwoman jumped a few rooftops and ran as fast as she could, shimmying across fire escapes and eventually kneeling down behind a large rooftop shack to catch her breath. Isis was faithfully behind her the entire way, and she sat on her haunches, staring at Catwoman with her big yellow eyes as if to say, "is that it?"

Catwoman grinned down at her cat and pulled out the jeweled necklace from a tiny pouch that she had tied around her waist; the golden necklace was studded with rubies, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. It was much too gaudy and much too ridiculous to wear or even sell, but it would make Batman appear. At least, that's what she was betting on.

"And I'm not a betting woman, my sweet," she purred at Isis and rubbed an ear. Rolling the necklace around in her palm, she mused aloud. "Who in their right mind would buy this thing? I'm doing Vivan's a favor by stealing it." Chuckling, she stood up and put the necklace back into the pouch. "Well…not stealing. _Borrowing_."

Isis rubbed up against her legs and purred.

"Come on. Let's get away from all the hubbub and hunt down a flying mouse, shall we? I feel some retribution coming on."

Sprinting across more rooftops, the cat jumped after her and they crouched into the shadows as the police sirens blared past towards the ringing alarm bell of the jewelry store. As soon as the alarm was out of earshot and the patrol cars were well out of their way, Catwoman paced back and forth hungrily on a tall rooftop. She stretched and sighed, savoring the night air, and even felt inclined to move the date up for the Emerald Eye heist. She owed Bruce, after all, for cutting their time short. Not that he deserved it. But he didn't _need_ the statue, either. And she had made this decision long before she met him.

"Two weeks, Isis," Catwoman murmured softly. "And then it'll be mine."

She rolled her shoulder and cracked her neck, feeling better than ever. The cuts had almost healed and Rosa had removed the stitches earlier. Even though there was still a bit of soreness, nothing could stop her now.

Catwoman glanced across the rooftop. Three blocks over stood a shadow against the dim, city-lit horizon. She grinned. _Here he comes._

Sprinting as if she was a track-runner, Catwoman hurled herself over the rooftops and hurdled small concrete lips, rolling, jerking back up, and doing it all over again. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw the dark figure paralleling her, running along the rooftops as well and gliding gracefully over large gaps. Her sprinting and jumping gave her tremendous confidence and she increased her speed. Batman was getting closer and her heart was pounding faster. She glanced ahead and bit the inside of her cheek. There were no more rooftops. The buildings had staggered and she would have to run diagonally to barely clip the corner of the next building, and she'd never make the jump.

_Now or never._

She had never attempted such a leap before, and the odds of her whip actually catching the flagpole the first time in midair were incredibly slim. If she missed, she'd at least land with a roll. She'd worry about broken bones later.

* * *

Batman sucked in a breath of surprise as he watched her leap off the building and spread her arms apart in midair.

_She doesn't have a glider like I do. Hell, she doesn't even have that much protection._

He lost sight of her figure as she plummeted off the building and was obscured by the next one. She jumped in front of it – but did she land? Did she just fall to her death?

_Maybe she's nuts after all._

Batman launched himself over the next few blocks towards where she fell, silently hoping there wasn't a bloody splatter on the sidewalks below.

* * *

Catwoman cracked her whip out towards the flagpole. It had to be the right timing, she had to be the right distance…it had to securely wrap around the pole, or she was screwed.

It caught.

The whip grew taut and Catwoman gripped it triumphantly with both hands as she swung her legs forward and launched herself upwards until she was swinging backwards, back over the flagpole. She swung around the pole one more time to gain the ultimate momentum and jiggled the whip. It let loose and she was sent flying towards the next building. Her momentum was too much, however, and she had done a flip in midair as she couldn't control her body's velocity, but saw that the next rooftop was below her and managed to twist awkwardly and land on both feet and one palm without rolling. The force of the landing shot pain up through her wrist, her elbow, and one of her hips that had stretched too hard from the strain, but she was feeling too much adrenaline to care. Breathing hard, she slowly looked up in time to see Batman land on the rooftop several feet away from her. The sight of him made her grin. For some reason, he was the ultimate rush. A thrill. A complete surge of adrenaline, and like a drug, she wanted more. Combined with her successful leap and flip around the flagpole, she felt the waves of excitement ripple through her and she let out a sultry, hearty laugh.

Batman raised an eyebrow. _I guess cats do land on their feet._

She wanted to groan out in pain and stumble up to crack her back and rub her elbow, but it would have been less than elegant and she wanted to show Batman she wasn't a wimp. Besides, she had a score to settle with him. Tucking her outstretched leg in, she slowly and gracefully turned around and leaned against the lip of the building, putting her elbows upon it and leaning back as if she was ready for a tan. She was still breathing hard but she was smiling.

Batman gulped and did his best to act incredibly stoic…but she was arching her back and had rested her head back upon the lip of the building, breathing hard and exposing the flatness of her belly, a full view of her breasts, and a good look at her outstretched legs. It was probably on purpose.

"Well, well," she murmured saucily, "Look who's following me."

"That's two for two," Batman growled. "Give back what you've stolen, _now_."

Catwoman's smile immediately disappeared and she stood up, putting her hands on her hips. Isis, who had gingerly crawled down a fire escape, crossed a few alleyways, and crawled back up the side stairwell to the building Catwoman was on, finally made it to the top and trotted over. She rubbed against Catwoman's legs affectionately then lay down to clean herself and rest.

"Quick to make accusations, like always."

Batman narrowed his eyes. "It's what you do, isn't it?"

"I don't know where you get your information from, but I would hardly call it stealing."

Batman remained silent.

"Are you still sore about what I did a few weeks ago, Bats?"

Batman still didn't reply.

She grinned and nodded, slowly walking towards him. "Okay, I'll admit…I haven't been making much of a first impression on you, have I?"

_On the contrary,_ he thought. "If you've stolen anything - "

She chuckled. "And put it where?" She held her arms up, turning her body around in pirouettes, until she was suddenly right in front of him. "Somewhere in this?" She suddenly leaned into him and breathed, "Wanna search me?"

Batman gripped her arms, pushed her away, and growled, "No."

She laughed at his response and stepped forward despite his grasp. "Why not?"

Batman released her and walked past her, ready to leave. He'd had enough. The whole experience earlier with Selina had already gotten his testosterone levels on the rise, had made him frustrated at the same time, and now he was dealing with a strange seductress clad in tight leather who obviously wanted him…badly. What made him even angrier is that he somewhat returned the feelings back…and that wasn't normal. But then again….this entire situation wasn't normal. Prancing around in a bat suit wasn't normal. He knew that he had more sense than this Catwoman. He followed the law. She didn't. It was as simple as that. Technically, however, he hadn't caught her stealing anything. The diamonds were already illegaly transported before she even stole them, and now they were long gone. Maybe she took advantage of opportunities, sure…but breaking and entering? He didn't have proof. Physically harming someone? Only the bad guys, which he'd done dozens of times. He let out a frustrated, growling sigh. He couldn't pin anything on her, which made his thoughts even more conflicting. If only he could nail her on some sort of crime, he'd be able to put her away and not have to worry about it ever again. If only she'd stop distracting him…

He was stopped dead in his tracks as there was a tug on his cape. _Christ_. He didn't know whether to knock her senseless or press her body close to him. He turned his head and narrowed his eyes.

Catwoman had grabbed his cape and wrapped herself in it, lifting up the material and looking at it closely.

"This looks expensive," she mused. "Not from your average craft store." She grinned at him, held up a hand, and tapped her wrist. Small blades popped out.

Batman yanked the cape away from her and she stumbled into him, laughing. He gripped her wrists at his sides, but she had already retracted the claws.

"I'm only kidding, Bats," she grinned up at him. "Relax, will ya?" She tugged at her wrists but he held onto them firmly. "Let go."

"Enough with the games," he growled.

She struggled, but he held tight, bringing her wrists behind her back, reaching around her with his arms.

"I can still cuff you," he threatened.

"You've got nothing on me," she breathed, but he saw the flash of panic in her eyes.

"I've got you fleeing the scene of a crime, and I'd rather not risk a claw in the face," he countered.

She tugged once more and he tightened his grip. Despite the circumstances, however, she grinned out of the corner of her mouth.

"Fine," she stood upon tip-toe and sighed, "No games."

Before he knew it, her lips were on his, demanding and provocative, non-hesitant and brave. At first, he was too surprised to react, but when she put her tongue in between his parted lips, he kissed back just as hard. All the while, however, he didn't let his guard down and refused to release her wrists. He knew that her most dangerous weapon was her claws, and he didn't trust her after she had cut him the first time. She tried to bring her arms up and around his neck, but he stopped her and held her wrists away. The kiss turned more intense and hungry, and as they pushed against each other, she tried once more to close the gap between them, but he gripped her wrists tightly, holding them out. Finally, she compensated by hiking her leg up around his waist and pressed into him, but he finally came to his senses and broke it off.

"Stop."

She breathed into his lips. The kiss left them both nearly breathless. "What?"

"Don't."

Catwoman lowered her leg and she examined him closely. "What's the matter, Bats?" she whispered to him with a grin. "Is there a Mrs. Batman at home?"

He stared down at her, but he didn't reply. His grip on her loosened.

She grinned at him and licked her lips. "There's lipstick all over you."

She reached up and tried to wipe it off with a thumb, but he tightened his grip on her wrist again. She glanced at his hand, then looked up into his dark eyes.

"I won't hurt you," she whispered.

"I'll wait until you've been de-clawed," he replied gruffly.

She leaned into him again, but hesitated. He didn't move or recoil. She leaned forward some more until her lips were brushing his. He still didn't move. Slowly, she brought out her tongue and gently licked a smudge on his upper lip, nibbled it tenderly, then kissed it. She did the same with his lower lip, and then finished up with a chaste kiss on both lips. He still hadn't moved, but he watched her intently. She looked up at him and met his gaze.

"Why were you following me?"

_Because you're a thief,_ he thought bitterly. "The diamonds you took belong to a very dangerous crime syndicate," Batman tried to act nonchalant but his self control was starting to crumble. He was angry, frustrated, and aroused at the same time. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was drawn to her. Kissing her made the fire growing inside him even worse, and he wanted to get to the point quickly. There was no way of knowing whether or not she returned the feeling or if she was just using him – he guessed the latter – but now the situation had become complicated, as she had inadvertently interfered with the Russians. Word had gotten out that Batman had an accomplice dressed as a Cat and was out to smash the crime ring that night. Of course, it wasn't true, but it wasn't something Batman wanted to carry on his conscience. She might be a thief – a very beautiful thief – but now her life was in danger, and he couldn't ignore that. His attraction to her wasn't helping things.

Catwoman blinked. "So?"

"If you try to sell them, they could be tracked," Batman continued. "You need to return the diamonds to me. Your life could be in danger."

Catwoman let out a low, hearty, sultry laugh. He did his best to ignore the goosebumps crawling up his neck. She tried to step forward and put her arms around his neck, but he held them away. "Oh, Batman, don't tell me you're worried about me?"

Batman scowled.

"Those diamonds are better off somewhere else," she shrugged, pulling her wrists away from him. "It's better than keeping them locked away in a vault or in an evidence baggie for years in a police station."

"If you think your little Robin Hood stunts are for the good of the people, you're wrong," Batman growled and grabbed her wrist again. "You're just sending a message that it's okay to break the law, and you're putting yourself and others in danger because of it."

Catwoman was startled by his sudden anger, but she narrowed her eyes and yanked her hand away, pointing at him. "Don't give me a lecture about being a role model, _Batman_," she emphasized his name. "Little children see you on the news and think they can do the same thing. Jesus, they should put up a message that states _warning: do not try this at home_ before airing the latest-breaking batch about your antics. It's worse than that Jackass show."

Batman clenched his jaw and glared at her. He was all too aware of the copycats and the children aspiring to be like him. It wasn't the sort of message he'd intended to set out, and when he initially started, he didn't even think about the repercussions.

"And as I recall," Catwoman snapped, "I put _my_ life in danger for _you_, and it wasn't because of the goddamn diamonds!"

She immediately regretted saying it and turned around to hide her embarrassment, putting her hands on her hips. Batman didn't show any reaction, but inwardly he was surprised at the statement.

He recovered quickly and growled, "I didn't ask for your help, and I don't need it. _Don't_ come looking for me like that again."

"Duly noted," Catwoman snarled over her shoulder and started to walk off.

Batman curled a lip and cursed to himself, exposing himself for the first time by putting his hands on his hips, spreading the cape apart and showing a bit of armor. He didn't mean to make her angry, but how in the world could he possibly tell her that he didn't want her to get hurt? He grew even more frustrated with himself that he was even worried about it in the first place. _How in the hell does she manage to get under my skin so easily? _There was definitely something about Catwoman that bothered him, and it was unsettling. He couldn't place it. She was a dangerous person simply because his feelings for her were inexplicably growing, and he hated not being able to control it.

He looked up to see Catwoman examining him. She was standing at the edge of the building, one leg on the lip, and was ready to jump off in an angry rush, but she looked back and found him staring at her with an odd look on his face. She couldn't tell by his mask, but there was something in his eyes and posture that struck her. She slowly lowered her leg and cocked her head.

"You really are worried, aren't you?"

Batman didn't reply. He was immediately furious with himself that he could be so transparent.

She took a few steps forward and crossed her arms. "Who's behind the diamond-smuggling?"

Batman narrowed his eyes. "If I told you, you'd only go looking for them."

Catwoman sighed. "What if I told you that I already sent a few diamonds to a broker?"

"Then you have to get out of Gotham for a while," Batman replied in a gruff tone. "And I need the name of that broker."

Catwoman immediately shook her head. "Not a chance. I'm not leaving town and I'll never give you the name. What, do you think I'm an idiot? You'll send me to jail."

"You'd rather be killed?"

Batman's growling retort made her purse her lips together and take in a breath through her nose in protest, deliberately puffing out her chest as she lifted her chin.

"I have a better chance of being safe in my own home than in a jail cell," Catwoman replied. "You know how corrupt Gotham cops are. Gordon hasn't flushed the system completely yet. Besides, I think I can take care of myself. I took care of you when the going got tough."

Batman glared at her. _I'm never going to live that down._

"Why don't you and Gordon use the diamonds as bait and catch those bastards?" Catwoman shrugged. "One statue taken by me isn't going to lure them. The police seized the whole damn warehouse."

"It's not about the diamonds," Batman said. "They think you're a threat. They want to get to you, and they want to get to me."

Catwoman stepped forward and gave him a sultry grin. "So, your life is in just as much danger. Maybe we should keep watch over each other."

Batman didn't budge, but his self-control was threatened again as she moved closer to him again.

"What do you want?" he murmured.

"Right now? You," she breathed as she closed the gap and tried to kiss him again, but he turned his head away. Catwoman blinked and after a disappointed pause, she stepped back. Slowly turning around, she arched her backside and looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes lowered to her shoulder blade, forcing him to follow her gaze. The black leather had been stitched up in patches where his arm guards had torn through. She looked back up at him.

"Or…an apology would be just as good."

Batman's eyes traveled down her body and noticed the tiny pouch tied around her waist.

"We'll talk about making up once you return what you've stolen."

Catwoman immediately grabbed her whip, spun around, and cracked it furiously in front of him. The snap echoed off the air like lightning but he didn't flinch. He saw the flicker of anger in her eyes and prepared himself to fight back, moving under his cape for a pair of cuffs.

"You didn't say please," she curled her lip at him and gripped the whip tightly, dragging it two and fro.

Batman narrowed his eyes.

"You know, Bats…" Catwoman pounded her wrists together and the claws shot out. She examined her right hand while twirling the whip in her left. "…I have to clean my claws every now and then, but last week I admit that I got a little out of hand. I'm sorry."

Batman didn't reply. There was a long pause as she turned her hand back and forth, examining the razor blades, and mused aloud, "I really do have to get new ones."

Batman still didn't move.

Catwoman looked up at the sky and shook her head. "Now you're just being _rude_, Batman," she hissed. Glaring at him, she cracked the whip again, this time taking a step closer, forcing him to take a step back. "I've apologized to you, I've even exposed my _feelings_ for you, now _you_ should return the favor."

Batman clenched his jaw, knowing that the statement about her feelings was probably bullshit. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Not good enough!" she shouted and cracked the whip again. He stepped back again and she laughed a deep, husky laugh. "Men. Even the invincible ones in a bat suit can't say sorry. Pathetic."

"Where are the jewels you've stolen?" Batman growled, ignoring her comment.

Catwoman clenched her teeth and cracked the whip twice more. "NO! That's not how you apologize!"

_The bitch is nuts,_ Batman thought angrily. He backed away some more as she stepped closer, threatening him with her whip.

_Just a little more._ Catwoman's heart raced.

He was planning on stepping into her before she could raise the whip again, but the distance between them was still a little too large. If she timed it right, she could slice his face right open with that thing, or cut right through his cape. He had to be careful. Then an idea struck him as he felt a boot touch the ledge of the building. If she thought she could push him off and get away, she was more naive than he thought.

Catwoman gave him another beautiful smile but her eyes were narrowed. "Last chance, Bats."

She saw a jaw muscle tighten.

She lifted her arm to crack the whip and Batman took a step back, but he tripped backwards over the ledge and disappeared from sight. She ran forward to look over, but all she saw was the faraway traffic passing below them.

Suddenly, her arms were yanked behind her and she heard a loud _clip_.

"I'm sorry," Batman murmured deeply in her ear. A shiver reverberated throughout her entire body when she felt how close he was.

Her claws were still out. Silently and carefully, she twisted her wrists and moved an index finger into the lock.

"Drop the whip," he ordered.

Catwoman obeyed and slowly turned around, acting defeated.

"Now, was that so hard?" she whispered huskily.

Batman looked down at her and for the first time, looked directly into beautiful, mysterious, amber eyes staring back up at him. She leaned in closer.

"If I give back the necklace I borrowed, will you let me go?"

Batman nearly snorted aloud. Even now she wouldn't admit to stealing. "No."

Catwoman dug deeper into the keyhole. Almost there. She raised her head up higher and slowly stood on tiptoe. She bravely held eye contact and felt his breath on her lips.

"Why not?"

"You haven't returned those diamonds you stole."

"Is that all?" Catwoman pouted. "I was hoping you wouldn't let me go because you were getting attached to me."

Batman didn't look amused.

Catwoman sighed and roll her eyes. "All right, Bats, what else would you charge me with?"

"Withholding evidence and obstructing an ongoing investigation."

"In that case, just let me run home and fetch them," she grinned.

Batman didn't budge. Instead, to her surprise, he kept eye contact. His dark, intense gaze made her adrenaline surge, and this time she was sure she saw a flicker of desire. Before she knew what she was doing, she lifted her toes and placed her lips on his again.

This time he responded fully, but his eyes were wide open. She didn't care. Instead, she made sure that he knew that she was leaning into him…pressing her breasts against his chest…staring back into his eyes seductively…

The lock clicked and the cuffs slid loose.

Catwoman brushed her lips along his and there was a soft meow at their feet. They both looked down to find Isis rubbing up against Batman's boots, moving back and forth from under the cape.

"Looks like someone's a little taken with you," Catwoman purred. "And I don't mean just me."

Batman simply looked at her. She stepped back a few steps, dropped the cuffs behind her, and tossed him the necklace.

Taken aback, he caught it quickly and stepped forward to catch her again but she had already jumped off the ledge and was running across the roof of the lower building adjacent to them. The cat bolted after her and Batman swore under his breath as he snatched up the cuffs and followed her.

Catwoman already had the advantage. She was at least a building's length ahead. She smiled to herself and thought about the ace up her sleeve that Batman hadn't yet discovered.

She was already sprinting down the alleyway when he jumped off the ledge and spread out his cape to glide after her. Yet, something was wrong. He was losing altitude…fast. He could hear an odd flapping noise and more distinctly, a tear.

_Shit!_

He wavered and titled at an odd angle in the air and his cape flexed threateningly. Clenching his teeth angrily, he angled his body so he could land onto the next rooftop before he crashed down to the ground. Heading into the alleyway without knowing where she went wasn't a good idea, and he wasn't about to chase her on foot since she had already given the necklace back. This was just a game to her.

He landed hard on the rooftop and rolled, recovering quickly and tugging at the cape to examine what had exactly gone wrong. The ends of the cape were completely shredded, at least up to a foot in length, and it had ruined the delicate skeletal structure of the glider. It was also the reason he couldn't pick up enough air; it was slipping right through the shredded material.

_It was her fucking cat!_

He hadn't been paying attention to the thing when Catwoman was busy enticing him with that voice… and that body…and those lips…

He clenched his teeth and let out a low, guttural growl as he signaled for the Batmobile.

* * *

"It was all planned out," Bruce slammed his cowl down onto a table full of broken and almost-repaired gadgets. "She was _expecting_ me to come after her. The stolen necklace was _bait_." Alfred followed him and picked up the cowl, put a few scattered nuts and bolts back into place, and replaced the flare gun that had been knocked over.

"I'm such an idiot."

"Now, now, Master Wayne."

"That damn demon-spawn cat of hers ripped my cape to shreds."

Bruce yanked off his cape angrily and threw it forcefully into a chair. He faced a deep chasm at the edge of the batcave and sighed, putting his hands on his hips. Alfred picked up the cape curiously and examined it.

"More cat problems, Master Wayne?"

Bruce whipped around and gave Alfred a menacing glare. "Don't laugh at me."

"I would never, sir."

"She knows how to get to me. She lures me in and plays tricks on me."

"Like a game of cat and mouse, I gather, Master Wayne?"

Bruce curled a lip. "No puns, either."

"My apologies."

Alfred really didn't know what to do or say in a situation like this. Batman really wasn't presented with challenges such as leather-clad women on a nightly basis. Quite honestly, it was a humorous situation. He tried to imagine Batman battling it out with a beautiful temptress that nearly matched him with wits and strength, but it was too comical and he did all he could not to laugh. He could barely look at his master without grinning dumbly at the obvious lipstick smudges on his face. What could he say? All he could do was try to lighten the situation, which, in every sense, wasn't that bad. Bruce just took himself too seriously. As far as Alfred knew, this Catwoman creature wasn't a murderer, didn't trade guns or drugs, and it still hadn't been proven that she was an actual thief. If Catwoman was the most of Batman's worries right now, then the situation in Gotham City couldn't be _that_ bad.

And Alfred pointed that out.

"Sir, if this Catwoman is all you really have to worry about, shouldn't that be somewhat _good_ news?"

Bruce collapsed into a chair with a sour expression. "It's _bad_ news. I don't _want_ to worry about her. It's dangerous."

Alfred didn't reply but silently disagreed. If Bruce didn't have anything – or anyone – to worry about, he'd become lost in his own monster. He'd lose himself. It's the people that surrounded him and who he thought about – his mother, his father, Alfred, and the people of Gotham City - that ultimately made his decision about becoming Batman worthwhile. He'd slowly crumble otherwise.

"Anything on the Russians?" Bruce asked.

"None, sir. I'm afraid the Gotham police detectives haven't managed to uncover anything suspicious - "

"They were probably paid off," Bruce interrupted darkly.

"- but the firm expressing a curious interest in the land Miss Selina Kyle was planning on purchasing has suddenly increased their numbers at an alarming rate. There are plenty of shareholders buying stock, giving them more incentive to intimidate their competition."

Bruce glanced at Alfred. "If people are buying stock, it's because they're expecting it to increase later."

"Yes, sir."

"How many shareholders are we talking about, and how much stock?"

"The major buyers are purchasing stock by hundreds of thousands, Master Wayne."

"How much per share?"

"Thirty-four dollars and some change, sir."

Bruce narrowed his eyes and sat back to think. "If people are rallying to buy stock that quickly, there's got to be something going on. A company expansion never picks up this many buyers at once." He looked at Alfred. "Unless they're expecting a big payout. Who are the major buyers?"

Alfred remained silent but gave Bruce a grim look.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'll have to let Gordon know that the prominent gangs of Gotham are probably making a business deal, most likely the remnants of the Falconi and Maroni families." He stood up and walked over to his computer, punching a few keys and pausing over the screen. "Multigon was bought out by this European company I've never heard of before. Alekssandra/Scarlet. Sound familiar?"

"It sounds like a fashion line, Master Wayne, but you never know these days."

"The name is Russian. But why buy the land? What the hell are they trying to do? And what does this have to do with the diamond-smuggling?"

"Is this land ideal for a subdivision or mini-mall, like the people are speculating, Master Wayne?"

"No," Bruce replied slowly. "It's ideal for a mountain lion refuge. It's wooded and rocky. Secluded. Not a good spot for a country club, golf course, or anything of that sort. It's at least twenty miles outside of the city." He sighed and put a fist to his chin. "I don't get it. The most puzzling thing about it is that it's all legal. Whoever they are, they're going through all legal channels, otherwise it would've been shut down by now. They're not publicizing it, though. On the contrary. The whole deal has been kept quiet."

"Any idea of who's in charge of this Alekssandra Scarlet firm, sir?"

"The only records that pull up are on a Gregorian Falstaff, who owned Multigon. I've heard of him before…he _was_ a billionaire but usually deals with shady clients. He's tried to put Wayne Enterprises out of business a couple times, but the guy is too clumsy and too stupid with his money to know what he's doing with it." He sat back again and rubbed his face. "There's got to be some sort of connection."

Alfred didn't reply, allowing Bruce to think. However, it was getting late – 3 a.m., to be exact – and it was definitely not an hour for brainstorming. Before he could mention turning down the sheets, however, Bruce pointed at the computer screen and narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were accusing it of something.

"Falstaff's in financial trouble," he mused aloud. "It wouldn't be the first time. What better timing to worm his way out of it by selling his own company? This Russian firm stepping in must've seemed like a Godsend to him…but a perfect opportunity for them…"

"Master Wayne, would I suggest that tomorrow you check in with Commissioner Gordon on the status of the diamonds? Perhaps then he would have more information for you and we could start connecting the dots."

Bruce was still staring at the computer screen. _The diamonds._ The thugs at the dock had all been rounded up by the police, but of course, there was still a leak. They were all still in jail but somehow word got out that Catwoman was helping Batman. Now not only did he have to be eliminated, but she as well. It bothered him. He had death threats all the time, but he didn't like it when others were threatened. He hated having that on his conscience…especially after she stopped that random thug from shooting him in the back. She might be a petty thief, but she most definitely wasn't expendable.

_What if they come after her?_

"Master Wayne?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, Alfred. I'm going to stay up a while and check some more things out. You don't have to wait up for me."

Alfred sighed and nodded. "Very well, sir."

It was imperative that Selina win the land. The dispute just seemed too peculiar. The fact that the Russians were somehow tied to it made Bruce wary of the whole situation, and he knew that nothing good would come from it if Selina lost her bid for the mountain lions. Not only would she be spitting nails and most probably be incredibly unpleasant to be around, but it was possible the Russian mob would get a chance to move into Gotham.

He thought about Selina and the dinner they shared.

Before Alfred could get to the top of the stairs that led to the lift, Bruce barked his name.

"Alfred!"

"Yes, sir?"

"I almost forgot to ask you…uh…" Bruce hesitated. "Well…"

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Would it be a good idea if I…?"

Alfred gingerly descended the stairs, stood in front of the computer screen, put his hands behind his back, and cocked his head.

"Yes, sir?"

"What do you think about Selina?"

Alfred blinked. Bruce's choice in women was, in fact, always a catch-22. They were always beautiful. They were always imbeciles. Alfred chose the safe way out.

"She's very stunning, Master Wayne."

Bruce shook his head. "No, no, no. I mean, what do you _think_ about her?"

Alfred pursed his lips together and looked at the ceiling. Although he had only seen her once, he could hear their conversation on the way to Giovanni's as he was driving. She was clever and level-headed. He thought back on the amusing story that Selina had described to him in the car about her outbidding the others for an embarrassed and surprised Bruce Wayne at the Triple-P auction, something Bruce had conveniently neglected to tell Alfred. It was also the first time a woman had ever taken the initiative to talk to a chauffeur. She treated Alfred as a friend, not as a butler. In fact, she demanded to know what it was like raising Bruce, and had asked him questions with genuine interest.

_Yes,_ he concluded with a tiny smile. _She's a very pleasant person, indeed._

"I think she's an interesting woman, Master Wayne."

This conundrum seemed to confuse Bruce. _Interesting_ wasn't exactly the word he was hoping for…yet Alfred was right. But he still wanted to know…

"Do you think I should go on a second date with her?"

"Why wouldn't you, sir?"

Bruce stared at Alfred and held his palms up, looking around at the cave. His expression said: _This isn't exactly a place to hold cocktail parties. I'm hardly your average bachelor. I fly around in a bat suit you know what, Alfred, if the answer isn't obvious, I won't justify your question with an answer._

"Sir, if I may say so, don't let this life of yours spin out of control. You need something…" Alfred looked for the word, "…something worthwhile. And I don't mean a beautiful blonde in a short skirt to chase after. I mean a friend, a partner, someone to share your life with. I can only provide you with so much companionship, and even then sometimes it's too much."

Bruce leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, thinking about Alfred's answer.

"Perhaps I'm just an old man hoping for the prospect that one day you'll be able to find someone that will make you happy, Master Bruce."

Bruce's eyes darted to Alfred and gave him the tiniest of smiles.

"I could always get a puppy."

"I'm not going to chase after a bloody dog."

"…or a cat," Bruce winked at him.

"I doubt you could handle one," Alfred quipped back. "I've seen what cats do to you."

Bruce's expression turned dark. Alfred took the hint.

"Good night, sir. I shall have breakfast prepared for you in the morning. You have a meeting at ten o'clock."

"Cancel it. We're going shopping."

"Beg pardon, sir?"

Bruce crossed his arms. "We're going to browse the local costume shops. I want to take a look at colored contact lenses."


	14. Little by Little

"Hey, Antoine. Did you get something in the mail?"

"Fuck yeah, Cee. What the hell kinda job did you pull? And why did you send them like this? Why didn't you give me any heads up?"

"I'm sorry, Antoine. I had to send them to you as soon as possible. I couldn't take any risks."

"Risks? Cee, you took the ultimate risk when you put a quarter-mil into a business envelope and put a thirty-seven cent stamp on it, d'you hear me? What in the hell is going on?"

"I can't really explain the details, Tony…"

"Don't gimme that bullshit, you understand? The post office checks for that shit now, y'know? I can't _believe_ this got through. I can't believe the Feds aren't arresting me for anthrax or some shit."

Selina sighed. Antoine hardly ever chided her; in fact, he was always interested to receive a shipment from her as long as he got a slice of profit, but he already smelled something fishy with the whole deal and wanted answers. She couldn't blame him.

"Look, I know you're upset with me, but this is important, okay? Don't sell them. Don't pass them around. I need you to hold onto them for awhile."

"Why? The fuck d'you do?"

"I took a bad batch."

She really meant that she stole from a potential mob boss or she had taken something that was already illegally tainted, and that was never good. There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Selina knew that Antoine was debating whether or not to scream at her or throw the phone across the room. Instead, his voice remained eerily calm and even lowered an octave.

"Why did you do that, Cee?"

Selina felt foolish. She bit her lip and remained silent.

"I know you ain't that stupid. Why did you do that?"

"I thought it was a good opportunity…I wasn't thinking clearly…I didn't think anyone would trace them since Batman had already found the warehouse…"

"SAY WHAT?!"

Selina winced and squeezed her eyes shut. "He thinks I have them, don't worry. Nothing will lead back to you."

"That dude is bad fuckin' news, Cee! If he knows you took them, he'll eventually find out WHO you are! When he finds that out, we're both finished, do you understand?"

"Not if you hide them, or do something with them," Selina countered weakly. "And he doesn't know! He won't find out!"

"How the fuck do YOU know?!"

"Antoine, relax…"

"Relax?! Lemme tell you somethin', Cee. And you listen good. Now, I don't know what brought on this sudden spree of yours, but I hope to _hail_ it ain't got nothin' to do with your little fixation on Batman…"

Selina opened her mouth and gaped at the mouthpiece, then put it back to her ear. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me!"

"What makes you think for a second that this has anything to do with Batman?!"

"You were _always_ careful, Cee! You were always reserved with the shit you pulled. But now it's just getting goddamn reckless. And I've talked to Rosa."

Selina clenched her teeth in anger. _Fire the housekeeper._

"When did you talk to Rosa?"

"I called for you last night, but you were out."

Selina let out a loud sigh and put her hand to her forehead.

"Whatever happened to the job you were gonna pull at Wayne's museum?" Antoine demanded. "Seems to me you're losing sight of the big picture here."

"The job is still on, Antoine, and this has nothing to do with Batman," Selina shot back defensively. "There are vultures out there looking to buy my land and I needed an emergency fix. I only realized afterwards that the goods were tainted, okay?! Cut me some slack here, please! My lawyers are fighting as best as they can for this preserve but it's costing me a fortune. This has been my life's work, Antoine, and I won't lose it to some fucking foreign dignitary who thinks they can cut out another profit at the expense of the animals!"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, until Antoine sighed.

"I'm sorry, Cee. I didn't know you were having trouble with the land. When did all this start?"

"A couple weeks ago."

"I know it ain't my business to tell you what to do, but you know that Rosa and I worry about you. Ever since you took in that housekeeper, she's been good to you, y'know?"

"I know."

"You're the reason she can take care of all those damn kids, y'know?"

"I know."

"You should listen to her once in awhile, Cee. Stay away from Batman."

Selina sighed again and nodded, even though she said nothing to the mouthpiece.

"Now…what the hell do you want me to do with these diamonds?"

Selina bit her thumb and was about to reply when her cat suit, which was dangling across her armchair, caught her eye. One of the gloves was folded across the cushion. She sat up and narrowed her eyes at it.

"Diamonds can cut glass, can't they?"

"I ain't no expert, and I know it depends on the cut of the diamond, but they should be hard enough to, yeah."

"I have an idea. Can you do me a favor?"

* * *

Bruce and Alfred had visited every costume shop in Gotham and were only able to come out with a pair of bright yellow-orange contact lenses. After asking a teenage clerk, who looked rather emo with short black hair and a lip ring, about the customers, she simply shrugged.

"Dude I've only been working here for, like, a week. Even if someone _did_ buy those, I wouldn't remember."

As they walked out of the store, Alfred mumbed, "Charming."

Bruce held the contacts up towards the sunlight. "These aren't the right color."

"Are you sure you checked the database for every single store, Master Wayne?"

"Every single store that would hold colored contact lenses within a sixty-mile radius."

"What about online shops, sir?"

"Believe it or not, these are pretty rare to come by. In order to get something like this online, you've got to go through a prescription contact lens service. Even so, online stores only take credit cards. I doubt she would be stupid enough to use something that anyone could trace. So, either our thief has a vision problem, or she's trying to hide her original eye color with theatrics."

"From your taste for theatrics, sir, I would assume the latter."

"Precisely."

"But how do you know that the contact lenses weren't bought out-of-state, Master Wayne? They could have come from anywhere."

"I'll admit that this is a crapshoot, Alfred, but I have a hunch that she lives near, or in, Gotham. If she lived further away, her perimeter for thefts would increase outside of the city. She hasn't done that. The farthest she's gone is on the outskirts towards the richer homes, and we can't even prove that it was her. But no other reports have been made outside of Gotham City."

"So what will you do from here, Master Wayne?"

Bruce examined the contact lenses and paused at the car door as Alfred opened it.

"I'll have to ask for Lucius's help."

* * *

"So, lemme get this straight," Lucius sat back in his chair and examined the lenses. "You want me to develop an algorithm that runs every known type of color shade against _this_ color to find a match for _another_ color?"

Bruce looked at the ceiling, thought about it, licked his lips and gave Lucius a tiny grin. "That's it in a nutshell, yeah."

"This is an unusual request, Mister Wayne."

Bruce lowered his voice. "Let's just say forensics won't be able to help me out on this one."

Lucius sighed and pressed his lips together. After a pause, he shrugged. "This could take some time."

"How much time?"

"Couple weeks, maybe more."

Bruce didn't reply. He didn't like waiting, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice, either. He was already asking Lucius a gigantic favor to be working on something outside of his jurisdiction in Wayne Enterprises.

"I'll need to research a few databases to construct a vast color grid," Lucius thought out loud and tapped the little baggie of contact lenses, "and then I'll need to scan these babies in to the system. After that, I'll have to optimize a program for it….but once I run the colors, it shouldn't take but a few minutes to find a match. After I fix all the bugs, of course."

Bruce nodded briefly. "Do what you need to do, Lucius."

"What color are you looking for?"

Bruce mulled over the question. To be honest, he didn't have a name for the color. It was a deep amber, yet it wasn't quite orange or brown. It was both, really…but he knew his explanation would only confuse Lucius, so instead he replied, "I'll point it out when you get the database going. That way I'll know exactly what to show you. Just get that program working, and let me know how it goes."

Lucius nodded. "You're the boss."


End file.
